Alice in Wonderland
by castironcanine
Summary: A friend from high school returns to LA, she's now a psychiatrist who treats genius kids. Prank phone calls, hero worship, stalkings, and stabbings. Please R & R! 525-JUST MINOR EDITS, NO NEW CONTENT
1. Chapter I

A/N: Hello all. There was some trouble with the way I uploaded this earlier, sorry. This is my first posting to and I'm mostly computer illiterate, so I'm still working out how to get everything working. Hopefully this is better, if not, please stand by. And please, please review, let me know what you think of it. Especially Alice, I'd worried she smelled a bit Mary Sue, so I married to off to try and make it better. Let me know if I should keep tweaking. But, be kind, I do have an ego.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not for money, I'll give them back when I'm done.

Chapter One:

Alice Guinyard was nearly asleep waiting for her dinner to reheat when the phone call came. It was 12:45 in the morning and she'd just gotten home from work, after nearly sixteen hours at work; not exactly the life she'd expected when she'd become a psychiatrist. Sure as hell wasn't the nine-to-five life most of her colleagues chose, but then again, Alice's clients weren't exactly most people. She had only fourteen families in her files, compared to most psychiatrists' hundreds. Fourteen families from the whole population of New York City.

And the common denominator to them all? Genius kids.

For probably the fifteenth time that day Ali thought of Charlie.

That's why she'd gotten into all of this; the psychology, the psychiatry, the drama amongst parents and their children, children and their parents, older siblings, younger siblings, the resentment, the frustration, the pride, pride, pride. Pride with reason, pride without reason, pride with ego, senseless pride, resentful pride. If it hadn't been for Charlie, she'd never had known this side of psychiatry even existed, never would have pondered whether or not it existed.

_Damn you, Charlie_, Ali chuckled, as she plopped onto her couch and groaned out of high heels, feeling blood finally circulated into the compressed heels and bunched toes. She didn't mean it, well, not entirely. He was the catalyst a dozen years ago, everything since then had her elegant chicken scratch signing ownership. It sure as hell wasn't his fault she returned to her apartment only five and half hours before she'd have to get back to the office. She was the one who kept at it, long after everyone else had been smart and gone home. But still, every kid that came through her office reminded her of Charlie, of Don; every adult she sat and counseled brought images of Alan and his wife.

Truth be told, Ali wasn't disappointed in the constant reminders to her past, to LA, to her high school years. It could just be damn annoying. She was thirty-four years old! She had no right to be remembering her teenage years a dozen time a day!

Groaning, Alice pulled herself out of the sinfully comfortable recliner and gently padded her way into kitchen in stockinged feet to heat the plate of food her dear, sweet, almost-too-understanding husband Ryan had left her, covered in foil in the fridge with a sticky note attached, playfully reminding her, again, that if they were to divorce, he would be the one getting an alimony check. This was the game they played two, three times a week. Alice got caught up in her work, Ryan would leave her plate in the fridge with a reminder to come home earlier attached. She'd feel guilty while heating the meal, he'd wake up with microwave timer, sit with her while she ate, half-asleep but still listening to her talk about her day. Then they'd go to bed, where she'd collapse from exhaustionphysical? emotional? mental? did it matter? she'd ponder in the twenty seconds her head lay on the pillow before darkness claimed herand would wake up at 5:30 to begin the cycle again.

Thankfully Ryan understood her devotion to her work and the underlying reasons for it; he'd been friends with Charlie when they'd been in high school, he'd been next to Alice walking him to his classes to keep the young boy from becoming an easier target than he already was. Ryan had even stepped between a few punches in those days, earning him Charlie's eternal gratitude, and a bit of a messiah figure in the mathematician's eyes then. Thankfully now, as Charlie approached thirty his reaction towards the whole gang was now one of peerage rather than vulnerable little brother to protective older siblings. All of them had been glad when Charlie grew out of that opinion of them.

But this time, it wasn't the microwave and it's hideously shrill buzzer that woke Ryan, it was the phone. Alice knew he'd wake up, come out, find her talking on the phone, and finish fixing her dinner while she dealt with whomever it was that was having the crisis. At this hour of the night, what else could it be but a crisis? Unfortunately the subconscious mind didn't understand that humans buried things there because they didn't want to deal with them, and so vomited it all up at it's owner's most vulnerable moment, reeking havoc on the poor children, too damn smart for their own good and damaged because of it, that Alice treated.

Or else, it could be easy and just be her family calling to say Grandpa had died, uncle Chuck was in the hospital, the family dog was hit by a car... At least that way Alice could get some sleep tonight.

"Hello?" Alice said, answering the phone between it's first and second ring.

"Hi, Doctor Guinyard, it's Emily Seed-Koepnick, I'm sorry to be calling you so late."

Victims of the Subconscious Mind: 1

Alice's Sleep Cycle: 0

"Don't be, Emily, what can I do for you? And it's Ali, please," Alice asked, rubbing her forehead, wondering what possessed people to hyphenate their names. While she did this the irrational, smart ass portion of her brain that Alice's rational and professional side tried to hard to ignore made a comment about smearing her coverup into her forehead and the various ways to make acne look professional; and Alice dropped her hand immediately. "How are you all doing?"

Emily Seed-Koepnick was the mother of Christopher and Derick Seed, the younger the genius, the other the resentful older brother. She'd married Walter Koepnick four months before and they'd all moved out to Los Angeles, California two weeks before. Alice had been getting daily e-mails from Emily on her family's condition, and it was worrisome. Derick, a shy, introverted twelve-year old to begin with, was declining steadily. He'd stopped doing his schoolwork, was becoming disruptive in class and at home, verbally abusive to his new stepfather, taunting his older brother into fist fights. He stopped sleeping, stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped making eye contact, and was sinking deeper and deeper into his mind. Ali had been speaking to Derick twice a day, before school and after, and had even blackmailed and verbally battered a former professor in the UCLA psychology department into taking this kid as a patient. Well, not so much blackmailed as bribed, seeing as how the man was tenured and Alice had nothing dirty on the man except the well-known fact that he tended to fall asleep during class and had a penchant for verbally harassing students who made asinine leaps of logic. (Wonder where Alice developed her tendency for verbal battery...)

Phone calls at one in the morning didn't fill Alice with a sense of a job well-done.

"Walt and I took the boys to Dr. Forker today for our first visit, and, I just got home. You see, well," Emily gave out a breathy chuckle that whistled across the phone line. "He committed Derick."

"What!" Alice practically shouted. "Son of a bitch!"

Ryan came out of the bedroom at this point, looking at her confused at his wife's normally even-keel was thrown for a loop. "Alice?" he asked, concerned. She waved away the concern, and nodded back to the bedroom door, knowing already this conversation would take a while. Ryan nodded, but came over any ways and planted a kiss on her forehead, before turning back to the bedroom and another six hours of beauty sleep.

Meanwhile Alice continued, "I'm sorry, Emily, I thought I had made it clear to Dr. Forker that Derick wouldn't respond to brute force, but apparently he didn't get the message."

"I don't know, Ali, but I think Dr. Forker may have been right. I mean, Derick's doing so bad lately. I knew the move was going to be hard on him, but I thought we'd done a decent job preparing him and Christopher for it. I guess we were wrong."

For the next hour Ali Guinyard listened to Emily Seed-Koepnick's concerns for her youngest son. Most of what she detailed Ali had heard over the past two weeks, but the mother needed to say it, and Alice wasn't going to put an end to the purging. She was, after all, psychiatrist to the whole Seed-Koepnick family: mother, father, stepfather, and both boys. She wasn't going to ignore a family in crisis.

_How the hell did I let it get this bad?_, Alice thought, yawning for the fifth time since the phone call began.

"I don't know, Ali, what am I going to do?"

"What if I was to come out there?" Alice said, speaking aloud the thought which had been quickly gaining in reason and need as she'd listen to the mother speak. "It's clear that Derick's in crisis, and you don't like you're too far behind. Christopher could probably use some help as well."

"But you have other patients," Emily said, but Alice could hear the relief in the woman's voice. This was the requisite protest, but the woman's heart wasn't in it.

"Whom I'd do the same for, if they needed me," Ali interrupted. "I'll try to get a redeye out there, hopefully we'll be able to get Derick out of the hospital by noon."

A few polite yet sincerely meant thanks were exchanged, as were the offers to pay for her flight, and the use of the guest bedroom, both of which she refused, as tempting as they were, before Alice hung up. Immediately Alice pulled the phone book off the shelf and within ten minutes she had a plane ticket booked for a 5:57 flight out of La Guardia to LAX, with an hour layover in O'Hare. Then came the call to one of her partner, Dr. Vicky Clasby, explaining the situation. There was little resistance, Alice hadn't been expecting any, just concerns for Derick and the news that they'd shuffle the cases amongst the practice. Thankfully Alice kept decent notes on her sessions and clients, the slack would picked up be the others.

When she finally came into the bedroom, Alice looked at the bed regrettably, before turning on a lamp and beginning to pack as quietly as possible.


	2. Chapter II

A/N: I have no idea what Charlie's classroom look like, so I just fudged it based on the classroom I've been in.

And also, I know, there is no reference to whether Don spent any time outside of LA except for the obligatory training at Quantico, so I decided to throw a little something in during Charlie's questioning.

Don't know if the FBI has Caller ID (though I don't know why they wouldn't).

Don't know anything about LA street maps or public school system. (3/9 Except what Jelseium has sent)

Just made it all up.

If anyone can figure out why Benjamin Zander has a school named after him, you get a gold star...

Chapter Two:

For her first three days in LA, Alice saw little of LA beyond the air port, the hospital where Derick was being held, Dr. Forker's office for a nearly-inappropriately cathartic screaming match, and the walls inside her patients' home. She ran mostly on caffeine and slept while the family was off at school and work. Her night were spent listening to Derick's softly shuffling gait as he wandered around the house, peeking in momentarily on his sleeping family. Ali walked with him at times, sat with him as he flipped through magazines, hummed what songs came to her mind in order to fill the air. She spoke little, and when she did it was only after Derick had made some, however minor, indication hat he was coming up from his darkened mind.

And he was returning to the world. When she walked into his room at the hospital the boy's eyes looked so dead to the world, so empty she repressed a shudder. She wondered for the hundredth time how she could be so dense as to not recognize how deeply this boy needed help. But now, three long, sleepless, yet immensely helpful nights later, Derick was interacting with the world again, not merely responding. Last night at dinner he'd asked his mother for a second helping, rather than merely standing and dishing it up for himself, as he had been doing. Alice had even managed to get him to sleep, his head in her lap, on the couch for a few hours.

Just seeing Derick home and coming out of his shell, little by little, was enough to relieve some of the pressure Emily was under. Alice spent a few hours with her that morning, talking, counseling, even a little crying. There wasn't much being said that Ali hadn't heard a hundred and one times before, from Emily and every other parents of an extraordinarily gifted child. It was the same worries, the same there always were, just put in a harsh new light now that she was in a new town where she knew no one.

Walter, for his part, was appropriately terrified at what he'd gotten himself into, and terrified for stepsons and new wife. He felt helpless and guilty and wanted to know that no, Derick wasn't like this because they'd moved because he'd gotten a new job.

And Christopher? Chris was scared for his little brother, having never seen the boy this bad, ever. He was angry at his stepfather and mother for moving them out to "stupid California" and letting this happen to Derick. He was angry at Derick for falling apart like this, and guilty for feeling angry, and angry for feeling guilty when he had a right to feel however he felt. And he was tired, so tired of having to be the good one, never getting into trouble, always looking out for everyone, always looking after himself when he was supposed to be rebelling against overprotective parents. Christopher's too was a cycle Alice had seen a hundred and one time before; in Christopher, Don, and every brother and sister who came through her office doors, without exception.

Ali did manage to call her husband, though, as a way to keep her own sanity. He'd been less-than-enthusiastic about her need to go to LA in the middle of the night, but he'd not put up more than a three second fight before helping her pack and driving her to the airport. Ryan even managed to convince her to let him come out to LA for a few days if it looked like she'd be staying past the weekend. She said she'd probably not have the time, but knew, just as Ryan did, that if the family was falling apart as hard as it was, she'd need her own support. And even though he didn't say it, Alice knew he'd be there.

While the family Seed-Koepnick was out at work and at school on Ali's third day in LA, a Thursday, she finally managed to get out to the Cal Sci campus. After nearly an hour and a half spent wandering around the appropriately manicured grounds that identify any college campus across the US, she managed to find Charlie's classroom.

But, as had been her luck this week, Charlie was in class.

However, recognizing her luck to be piss poor as of late, Alice had brought a book she's purchased at the airport.

The class let out about twenty minutes later, and Ali made her way inside. Charlie hadn't heard her enter, his attention focused on the small gaggle of students surrounding him, and a moment of delicious mischievousness struck her.

She moved, as out-of-sight as possible, up to the second row of seats, the fourth seat in from the aisle; a perfectly random spot to her, if forced Charlie could probably make an argument to the contrary, but for the purposes of juvenile humor, it worked. Alice pulled up the foldaway half-desk that all the chairs in classroom had, and put her purse on the desk, in the closest approximation to a student ready to leave as she could manage. And then she waited. When the last students surrounding Charlie made their way towards the door and he turned to the blackboard, oblivious to her presence.

Adopting her best Brooklyn accent, Alice raised her hand and spoke. "Professor Eppes, I had a question about the homework."

Charlie, bless his sensitive little genius heart, tried to disguise his jump as he turned around. But it took only a split second to recognize her, eyes widening visibly over the fifteen feet between them, and started laughing. "Please tell me you haven't been there the whole time!"

"If I have to answer that, you really need to pay closer attention in class!" Alice said, laughing still as she made her way down to him, wrapping him in swaying, smiling hug of friends reunited after too many years separating them. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Ali remembered the last few times she saw Charlie as his mother's funeral, her wedding, and his and her respective graduation ceremony. That same part was highly disappointed in the fact that she hadn't gotten out to see him more often; but a larger, and more importantly, louder part of her brain was still laughing at his good humor.

It'd been too long.

"Ali, what're you doing in LA?" he asked when he pulled away. "When'd you get here? Where're you staying? Do you need to stay at the house? Does Dad know you're here? Don? He's back in LA, you know. Is Ryan with you?"

"My God, you are your mother's son!" Alice laughed. "There's a patient of mine here I had to take care of."

"A patient? You work in New York." Charlie looked confused, as he often did with a quick reference that made little sense to him. Unlike most people Alice ever met, but like many of her young patients, Charlie's confusion, rare as it was, always came through clearly on his face. And Charlie, like those kids, would run it around in his head a hundred times until they figured it out or killed enough brain cells to make them forget.

"Excellent deduction," she teased. But then she explained, "His family just moved here a few weeks ago; they haven't been able to find a new psychiatrist and the kid took the move hard, so here I am. I've been here a few days now, but business before pleasure."

Charlie nodded, sobering up. He knew of the patients Alice treated, the geniuses, and it was still an uncomfortable subject for him. Ali didn't blame him, it had to be odd to know that a friend chose their profession not because they were inspired by what you did, but merely by you. Uncomfortable and yet oddly honored.

Alice plunged ahead, knowing through both personal and professional experience there was a silence coming where Charlie would ponder the source of his discomfort. "So how have you been doing? I talked to your dad a few weeks, he said you were working with Don?"

Charlie's face brightened at that, as Alice had been hoping it would. The brothers Eppes have always had a chip on their respective shoulders where the other played into their lives. Thankfully for all who knew and cared for them, the mutual resentment had come to a head only once, but unfortunately, it had been while Mrs. Eppes lay wasting away from cancer. Neither brother had forgiven the other for things said and done during those months. The psychiatrist in Alice knew that when they did finally talk about it, it would take years before either would understand, much less forgive. But the part of Alice which considered Don and Charlie brothers wanted to skip all that, choosing instead to grab and twist their ears until they said they were sorry.

Alice and Charlie fell into the easy pattern they'd had for years, speaking as they always had. The moments of silence that did fall between them were few, but comfortable, and when Charlie had to teach another class, she waited patiently in his office, flipping through magazines as patently erudite as those that littered Ali's own office. When Charlie came back into his office Alice was on his computer, it's screen tilted away from the door and out of sight. The same mischievousness that hit her earlier while waiting for Charlie had struck again while he was away, and she'd made up an elaborate plan for watching Charlie's reaction when she "discovered" his fictitious personal porn archive. Knowing him, he'd make a rather clumsy dash to look at the screen only to find her looking at lecture notes from a conference a month or so ago. Hilarity would ensure, Charlie would call a cease fire, and Alice's mind, satisfied for now, would obey.

But unfortunately Ali was just getting to the punch line when another head stuck itself into the office.

"Do you have a minute, Professor Eppes?" the woman asked.

_An incredibly attractive woman who should be thankful I'm straight and married,_ Alice thought.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Charlie said, throwing a glance Alice's way. "Amita, this is an old friend of mine from high school, Alice Guinyard; Ali, Amita Ramanujan. I'm her thesis advisor."

"Ali," Alice said. She shook hands with Amita, who was smiling almost broader than was humanly possible. The deeply buried smart ass in Alice made itself known again, wondering if Amita's cheeks ever started cramping, and once again Alice was thankful she rarely spoke such thoughts aloud. "Please, don't mind me," she said instead, "you've got more important things to do than entertain me."

"It'll only take a minute," Amita said again.

"You'll be okay?" Charlie asked.

If there was a moment to bring up the personal porn stash again, this would be it, but Alice nodded and said, "I'll try to limit my destructive nature to the things I've brought with me."

As Alice watched them work, huddled close over the papers between them, leaning into each other, almost-but-almost-quite touching. Alice knew that it was only a matter of time. _Charlie, you dirty dog,_ she thought, amused, _Boning a student, are we? My, my how we've grown._

Soon enough the little conference was over and gathered up her papers to leave; unable to resist the urge to dig up a little dirt, Alice said, "So Amita, Charlie says you worked with him and Don on somethings for the FBI?"

"Oh, yeah, well, Charlie did most of it, I just ran through it afterwards," Amita said, looking more at Charlie than Alice as she spoke. "So you and Charlie went to school together? You used to live in LA?"

"I'm based out of New York now, but yeah, Charlie, Don, and I graduated the same year."

"Ali and her friends were pretty much the only students in the entire school who didn't ignore me or try to beat me up," Charlie said, softly, smiling with self-consciousness.

_But he spoke of those years, something he rarely does with anyone. Interesting,_ Alice thought, then felt guilty for studying her friend's behavior. "It was pretty worthwhile agreement," she smiled. "We walked him to class, he made sure we don't fail math, everyone went home happy."

"Well, I'm glad Charlie had you all then," Amita said, smiling at Alice, then Charlie. Again. "So were you close to Don, as well?"

"Not so much, but we've been known to have a conversation or two." Ali broke eye contact with Amita and caught sight of the phone. She smirked devilishly as her mood of mischievousness flared up again as a thought of Don, a mere phone call away.

"Uh oh," Charlie said, recognizing it instantly.

"What?" Amita asked, confused.

He pointed to Ali and smiled. "The whole gang were masters of the practical joke, especially Ali, and that smile means an idea has struck her fancy."

"Oh, we Freudians are the best jokers in the world," Alice agreed, perhaps a bit more smug than she should have been. "We wiggle our way into the minds of victims without much effort, and from there, anywhere."

"What do you have in mind?" Amita asked, smiling, again.

"Does Don have caller ID?" she asked Charlie.

"Uh, yeah, I think," Charlie said, grin growing as he understood where this was headed.

Alice grabbed Charlie's phone, turned it onto speaker, and handed it to Charlie. "Dial, please."

Charlie, eager as always to have fun at his brother's expense, dialed, barely looking where his fingers landed.

A few moments passed as the phone rang, then finally, when it looked like Amita might start giggling in anticipation, Don's voice came through. "_Yeah, Charlie, what is it?_"

"Uh, not Charlie, Don, it's Alice," she said, doing her best to sound as if she were thrown off-center. In her humble and egocentric opinion, she succeeded. "Why'd you think I was Charlie?"

"_Must be having problems with the caller ID. Sorry. So what's up? Is everything okay?_" Don sounded confused, but working through it. Alice could practically see him flicking at the little plastic screen.

Amita started giggling into her hand.

"Oh, nothing really. I'd just got done with a patient who got me thinking of you guys, thought I'd drop a line, see how everyone's doing. It's been a while since we caught up." Alice said, smiling. "I hope this isn't a bad time. If it is, I can talk to Charlie, or your father."

"_No, nope. Slow day, paper work._"

"Ugh, been there. You have my sympathies."

"_A slow day for an FBI agent?_"

"Right, great thing, never mind. Any ways, how are you?"

"_Uh, good. We're good,_" Don said, the shock in his voice. Alice did admit, the whole story was a bit preposterous; in truth, if she were to call someone it'd be Charlie first, or Alan. She'd not call Don, especially at work. She didn't even know Don's work number. "_Dad's doing good, he's started dating again._"

"Well that's... good, it's about time," Alice said, trying to sound the professional psychiatrist. "Is he happy?"

"_Seems to be. He's, uh, technically living with Charlie now._"

Ali didn't have to play confusion as she turned towards Charlie. "Living with Charlie? Did they move? Don't tell me they sold the house."

Charlie shook his head, but he grinned.

Don explained. "Nah, Dad was going to sell it, Charlie bought it."

"Great," Alice said, clapping silently at Charlie, who executed a half bow. Amita snorted into her hand.

"_You okay?_" Don asked as Amita got up and ran from the room. Charlie and Alice could hear her laughing as she walked.

"Oh, yeah. One of the downsides of working in an office, the cold is running rampant, just about everyone's sick." Charlie, to help prove the point, turned away from the phone and coughed quietly.

"_Sounds like it. How are you doing?_"

"Me? Healthy as a horse."

"_I meant you and Ryan. How're you guys doing?_"

"Oh, well, we're"

"Charles, is everything okay, I just saw Amita running down the hallway. She looked like she was crying!" a man said, walking into the room. Larry something; Alice had met him before, at Charlie's graduation and at Mrs. Eppes' funeral.

"_Larry?_" Don asked.

Charlie rolled his eyes and spoke. "We're fine, Larry."

"_Charlie?_" Don asked, his voice riddled with confusion. Alice could practically hear the pieces falling into place. "_You're in LA? You're in LA! Why didn't you call me?_"

"Kinda just did, Donny," Alice laughed. She stood up and leaned over the desk, holding out her hand to Larry whomever. "Alice Guinyard, I think we've met once or twice. Call me Ali."

"Larry Fleinhardt, and yes, now that you mention it, you do look familiar. Alice Guinyard, ah, yes, Ali! Yes, yes, yes, Charles has always spoken highly of you." The professor bobbled his head, nodding at the memories. The smart ass wondered if it was to somehow shake loose extra memories, but Alice shook head to stop that thought in it's track.

"We were just having a little fun at Don's expense, weren't we, Donny?" Alice jabbed at the man on the other end of the phone, smiling.

"_Larry, I hope you weren't in on this_."

"No, no, Don, I had little to do with this childish endeavor, fun as it might have been, I had a class to teach." Larry said.

Before Alice could get any further with the conversation her cellphone rang. It was Emily.

"_I... I don't know what happened, Alice,_" she said, stammering. "_Derick was just doing so much better this morning. But now, he's barely looking at me when I call his name._"

They'd agreed to let Derick go to school this morning to try and get him socializing with other kids his own age.

"What happen?"

"_From what the principal told me, there was a fight. Some kid was teasing Derick about his... stay and then Christopher saw Derick was getting bad and tried to make them stop. And then someone pushed Derick and Christopher hit the boy. Derick really needs you._"

"Are you at home?" Alice asked. Out of the corner of her eye Alice saw look at her, worried, but she turned away.

"_No, we're at the school right now. Benjamin Zander Middle School. Do you know it?_"

"No, what's the address? Hang on," Alice asked, turning back to Charlie's desk. Finding a pen was easy enough, but paper... usable paper... that was harder. Finally Alice abandoned the search and settled for her arm. "Go ahead."

"_1300 Middlebrook Rd., just past the freeway._"

"Okay, I'll be there soon." Alice said, hanging up. She turned back to Charlie, Larry, and Don on the phone, saying, "I've gotta go."

Charlie asked, "What's wrong?"

"The kid I came for, he had trouble," she added flippantly for Larry, "I'm a child psychiatrist. Charlie can tell you." Alice motioned to the computer. "Does this have internet access?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, ducking behind the desk and pulling up a search engine.

Two minutes later Alice had directions to Benjamin Zander Middle School, and five after that she was pulling out of the Cal Sci parking lot.


	3. Chapter III

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the reviews I've been getting! I can't know what to work on if I don't know where I'm going wrong...

I thought maybe I should explain why I put in the last chapter, which didn't really have much in the way of a plot. I was just trying to show the relationship between Alice, Don, and Charlie. Get Don away from the protective older brother, and Charlie away from the studious, sensitive math genius. Have them act a little goofy, with no greater significance than teasing each other. Maybe it fell through, I don't know. That was my intention.

Okay, well, I've got some more here for you guys to R&R. I've got the next few chapters plotted out, so I know where this'll end up. Hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing!

And I have no idea about the treatment or diagnosis of psychological disorders. The stuff here's just the result of my own thoughts and about an hour on WebMD.

Chapter Three

Had Alice not been in such a rush to find Derick she may have noticed how anonymous Benjamin Zander Middle School was. The three story red brick building, wire-meshed plate glass windows, sadly hopeful potted plants lining the windows on the way to the main office. Nothing in the school stood out.

But Alice's mind was not on her surroundings, not on the students giving her sideways glances as she dashed towards the office. The whole ride over nothing but disaster scenarios played out in her mind.

The boy was catatonic, his mind unable to handle the ups and down of the last month, having finally snapped. Damaged beyond repair...

The boy was hopelessly withdrawn, failing to respond to Alice's gentle and time-honored approach. Leaving only institutionalization and medication...

The boy was suicidal, recognizing only the pain he'd caused his family. All he was searching for now was a method of his demise...

He suffered a mental break, multiple personalities. Which one would meet her when she arrived...

Might this month signal the beginnings of an attachment disorder? nervous behavior? anxiety? substance abuse later in life? Certainly adjustment disorder. He's showing signs of that already. There was enough stress in his life right now to trigger just about anything from schizophrenia to separation anxiety. But what had happened? Any of these? Which one could she have prevented?

Alice had tried to make herself calm down, think rationally, understand she wouldn't be able to properly diagnose until she got to Derick, until she saw him. And it would have worked, in a cold, dispassionate clinical situation. But Derick had gotten under Alice's skin, as most of her kids did, and right now she was a mother hen scared shitless.

When she found Christopher, Emily, and Derick in the office, she had to resist the urge to run over to Derick and start clucking at him. No, she'd have to put her emotions aside, be the professional, take this very, very slowly or she could make it much, much worse.

The story was told to her again, a little longer but without much more information, this time from Christopher rather than his mother or the principal, Ray Schrimsher. Also waiting for her was the school psychologist, Blaine Shorr. Seeing the doctor, an unexpected jealousy sprang up, so sudden it shocked her. It was logical for the woman to be here, logical for the school psychologist to tend to Derick when he was so withdrawn. He needed psychiatric help, here was a psychologist.

_Why on earth did Alice care?_

It was irrational, illogical, and something wholly derived from her territorial subconscious. But that was for later.

Now, the boys.

It wasn't a story she hadn't heard a thousand times before, but it was different now for her to see it. They weren't events relayed to her in her office, a week after it'd happened, the bruises already fading. Now, everything was raw; the darkening skin along Christopher's jaw, the swelling, the battered knuckles newly scabbed, tiny spots of blood on wrinkled and dirty clothing. And there was pain in the boy's voice. Terror in the way he moved. Guilt caused his eyes to drift over to Derick, who sat staring at the ground at his feet, not moving or blinking as the day's events were rehashed.

Alice nodded at the story's end. Dr. Shorr made some moves as if to request Alice consult with her for a moment, but Alice ignored her.

_The boys, the boys._

So Alice turned to Christopher and spoke a few words to him, letting him sit them down in a bank of chairs. The ever-observant part of Alice's mind noticed he'd chosen the chairs furthest from the door, away from the windows where his new classmates might see. A tiny speck of teenage insecurity, but that wasn't why she was here.

She listens to the elder brother for a few minutes, asking a few questions. When she tells him that she needs to go work with Derick now, but they'll talk later, Alice sees the emotion that play almost too often in his eyes. Anger at being brushed aside, guilt for his anger, and a very, very tired love and concern for his little brother. But he nods once, giving her the smallest hint of a smile, and a tight, almost fierce, hug.

_He'll be okay_, she tells herself. Looking from Derick to Principal Schrimsher, Alice asked. "Is there a spare conference room Derick and I could use?"

The principal nods and opens a door a little ways down from where Alice spoke to Christopher.

_My god, the man even looks like a middle school principal. _Alice chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. _Has the wardrobe even changed since I was in school?_

The same observant side recognized this was her coping skill, to find a modicum of humor in this tense, almost unbearable situation. She had to shake her head to clear the thought.

"C'mon, Derick, let's go talk," Alice said, raising her voice, praying that the boy heard her words and somehow acted on them. That he showed some kind of free will or free thought, that he didn't prove to her that he was withdrawn too completely for her to be of any assistance.

"Derick, sweetheart, Alice asked you something," Emily pleaded with her littlest boy. She smoothed his hair nervously, her voice and hand trembling in time. She'd been trying to be strong for so long now, how much more did she have to give? How much more could she take?

"Emily," Alice whispered softly, hoping a softer tone would make it easier for the woman to step away. Whether it did or not was for later, right now Alice focused on the boy, and if for that reason alone, Emily moved away.

"Derick, let's go," she repeated. Still the boy made no move. Alice began praying, pleading with what Power was listening.

God, she was getting tired.

She could use a day off.

She could use a drink.

She could use Dr. Shorr getting off her back.

_No! Focus._

Alice walked over to Derick and crouched at his feet, bending so her eyes were in line with his; an odd muscle strained at the unusual pose, but she ignored it. Now was not the time. "Derick, look at me. Look at me," she commanded.

_There_! There, for an instant, Derick's eyes locked onto her before he turned his head and let his eyes blur. That was all the recognition Alice needed. He was not catatonic. He was not so far gone he did not register the real world. He was a bit hidden away. She could work with this.

Standing up, trying not to smile, Alice extended her hand to him. Derick flinched for a moment, thinking she was about to strike him. Somewhere behind her left shoulder Emily whimpered at that, but Alice ignored her, keeping her attention on Derick, willing her hand not to tremble.

She stood like that for thirty terrifyingly drawn out seconds before Derick made a move. It was so slow that Alice almost didn't see it until he was up, out of his chair. The first thing he did was look up from the floor to her hand, then his gaze flicked down to his own. _Then_ he stood up, picked up his backpack, and headed for the empty conference room.

Derick had paused, considered, and then acted. Had he retreated to a younger mental age, he would have taken the proffered hand without hesitation, seeking comfort as a child does. Had he merely retreated into his mind, he would have ignored the hand and collected his bag. He _considered_. He _thought_. He _chose_ not to take her hand. This was very, very good.

And as Alice walked passed Emily and Christopher she gave them a look, a smile that she hoped would put all of that into words. When she gave them a nod, they sighed, relieved, and smiled back. As she closed the conference door behind them, Alice saw Emily hugging Christopher.

A moment of terror passed through her, wondering if she was worthy of such faith.

Derick stood next to the door, backpack on his back, less than an arm's reach from Alice.

"Why don't we sit down?" Alice asked. That was a good question. Easy enough to gauge whether he heard, whether he was capable of of forming a choice between half dozen chairs in the room. That should give her more clues to work with, more data.

This time Derick didn't hesitate, but reacted immediately, putting his backpack down on the table and sitting in a chair next to it. He reacted slower than normal, but still an immediate reaction. There was no jerking to movements, as sometimes designates deeper regressions, so that was a good sign.

And so Alice began as she always began, she spoke. "Before I came over here I was with my friend, Charlie; we went to school together. You'd like him, Derick. He's a lot like you. Really good at math; _really_ good at it. And he's technically a genius too, for whatever that means; got the pieces of paper saying so and everything. He teaches over at Cal Sci university, ever heard of it?"

Alice paused, hoping to get a response out of Derick, but none came. A casual observer would think she was wasting her time, that Derick wasn't listening, but after the last week, alice knew he was. How still his hands were; when he wasn't listening they were always twitching, working out some math problem in his head. There was how he leaned, ever so slightly, towards her. How he tilted his head a bit to help him hear. Oh yes, Derick was listening, he just wasn't responding.

"No? Well, that's okay, it's a small university. Now, with UCLA, Cal State, UC-Berkeley, even California Polytech, those I could see you hearing of, but Cal Sci. Nah. I didn't even know about it until Charlie went there. Not that he didn't get offers to work at those places, he just wanted to stay close to home."

Derick leaned forward, shifting his gaze to his backpack, and for one desperate moment Alice thought she was losing Derick's attention.

But then he unzipped his bag and started shuffling through the papers until he pulled out a magazine.

"_Machina Ex Mathematica_, hey Charlie reads that," she said, laughing, as he flipped through the pages. Finding what he wanted he laid the magazine on the table.

"Charlie?" Derick whispered.

"Yeah," Alice said, picking up the magazine, smiling. "Yeah, that's Charlie."

Sure enough, there was a black and white, 3x5 photo of Charlie standing next to a white board filled with the scratchings that made so much of his world. The article was about eight months old and detailed one of Charlie's papers. It was so filled with mathematical theory that Alice could barely make it through the first paragraph without getting lost, but it was the sort of thing that Charlie, and apparently Derick, lived for.

"You know Charles Eppes?" Derick asked, still whispering, but the lost look in his eyes lessening.

"Mm-hmm," Alice hummed, trying not to smile overly. She was happy, but if she looked too excited it might drive Derick away.

"You know Charles Eppes?" Derick repeated, a little stronger. His jaw dropped a few degrees, his eyes focused on the article. He reached out and took the magazine. "Really?" He looked up in her eyes. "Do you swear?"

"I can prove it," Alice said. "Come on."

With that Alice got up, and walked to the door. Without turning back to look at Derick, or at the confused faces of Derick's family or the school administrators, Alice walked to where she'd left her purse. From the sounds of footsteps behind her, Alice knew that Derick was there. She had the feeling that if she were to stop short, he'd run into her.

Rummaging through her purse she found her wallet. She flipped it open and showed Derick a photo.

"See? That was last year at my fifteenth high school reunion. See, there's me, Ryan, some of our friends, and right there, see, that's Charlie."

Alice had to laugh when she saw Derick's face drop. He took the wallet from her and looked back and forth between the photo and the magazine. Once he was satisfied he looked up to her, grinning.

"You do know Charles Eppes."

Alice nodded and laughed. _Now _it was safe.

The boy practically exploded. "You do know him! Mom! Mom! Chris! She knows Charles Eppes!" he started hopping around the room, unable to choose whether to show his mother or brother first. "She knows him! She knows him! Look!"

Watching Derick bounce around the room, everyone began to breathe again. Emily pulled Derick, protesting, into a hug and mouthed a sincere 'thank you' at Alice. Christopher didn't look at Alice, but she saw the relief and he didn't have to.

Even Ray Schrimsher and Dr. Shorr got to look at and compare the photos. And when Derick backed up against the doctor, letting her see, Alice felt not a twinge of jealousy.

_Guess it was my mama bear instincts; didn't want a stranger getting close to my sick little one_, Alice thought. Then, unbidden, a memory came back to her. The doctor's office three months ago. The news.

Alice shook her head violently, willing the painful memory away.

"Alice?" Emily asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Bee," Alice lied, and swatted the air, praying no one would point out it was winter. "I'm allergic."

"Oh," Emily looked around the room for a moment. "But you're okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Alice lied, smiling for her. "Very."

"Hey! Ali!" Derick said, jumping back to her. "Has your friend, Charlie, told you about his adaptation of Wollenberg's fifth postulate? Where he says that Wollenberg got it wrong? He's told you right?"

"We don't normally talk about that stuff, squirt."

"No?" Derick's eyes grow wide. "He challenges a hundred years of conventional mathematical theory and he doesn't tell you about it?"

"I wouldn't understand most of it, Derick. My brain's very tiny," Alice laughs.

"Sure you would! I can explain it. See,"

"Derick," Alice interrupted, sensing the moment had come. "I didn't come here to talk about Charlie or Wollenberg or the validity of a hundred-year old postulate."

Derick took a deep sigh, and whimpered, "I know."

"You gonna tell me about it?"

"It's not new," he said, plopping down in a seat, still clutching the magazine and wallet fiercely. "Kurt Bains started teasing me after I told him I was out of school because I was in the hospital."

"And?" Alice prompted.

"And what?"

"Where were you ? Who was there? How'd you respond? How did it escalate?"

Derick rolled his eyes but continued. "I don't know them all, they were from a lot of different classes, since we were in the cafeteria. I just got angry and told him to stop. He wouldn't, then Christopher came over. Chris told Kurt to stop, then Kurt pushed me, and Chris clobbered him." Derick perked up. "Chris clobbered him real good, didn't ya, Chris?"

Christopher, to his credit, smiled and nodded, but added. "Sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn't have."

Emily recognized where the boys had put her and laughed. "Oh no, no, no. I say 'yes, Christopher, you shouldn't have' and you" she looks to Derick "get all pouty saying that I'm letting you get beat up." Derick laughed, knowing where his Mom was at. "But if I say 'no, you did the right thing' then they" she looks to the principal and administrator "think I'm a bad mother."

"So what will you say?" Derick asked, tickled. Christopher at his side, beaming.

"That you should never start a fight but always finish one."

It was one thing everyone in the room was satisfied with.

A little too easy? Maybe. I have no knowledge of the workings of the human mind, so who knows, maybe it is that easy.

I do have a question to pose: Do you guys think I'm making the chapters a bit too long? I just kinda write and they end up this length. Let me know.


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter Four:

Emily shuttled the boys home after a few more minutes, promising the school that they'd be back in the morning, and asking, please, that they keep a closer eye on Kurt Bains. Alice stayed behind, to speak with Principal Schrimsher and Dr. Shorr. She hadn't been planning on the meeting, having left most of the relevant notes back in the Seed-Koepnick's still-spartan guest bedroom. But, then again, what this week had been planned?

The principal called Derick's teachers down for the meeting, and while they waited Dr. Shorr got her long-awaited chance to speak.

"Dr. Guinyard, I'm glad we've got the chance to talk about Derick, and thank you so much for working with him this afternoon. I can only imagine how difficult it would have been without your presence."

"Yes, well, thank you," Alice said.

"When Ray told me that we'd be getting a student of Derick's caliber, I did some research, and I managed to find quite a few of your papers on the topic of the social development of prepubescent geniuses. They were quite revealing."

"Thank you again. If you had any question I could answer, if we have time."

"No, no, nothing from your papers. They were all completely clear on what you brought forward, but I was confused on your tactics today. I mean, you got through to Derick so _fast_. How?"

"Derick and his family have been my patients for seven years now," Alice said, doing the math. "They were my first patients, back when I was associated with the University of New York, and then they followed me when I moved into private practice."

"I was under the impression that you were still associated with the University."

"I consult," Alice nodded.

"But today? Conventional wisdom dictates,"

Alice chuckled, cutting the psychologist off. _Conventional Wisdom._ "Well, sometimes all conventional wisdom will get you is someone to stand at your side while you scratch your head. These kids don't fall inside convention. To them, convention is a dangerous thing, sometimes fatal."

_God, sometimes fatal_.

Another memory came up. Another genius, a long time ago. Back when she was a resident. The second genius she met, Marylou Alcott. The one who walked in front of a bus twenty minutes after Alice released her. The one who truly got her into child psychiatry, the study of the minds of geniuses.

Alice pushed the memory away. _Derick. Derick was why she was here._

"The only thing I can say, Dr. Shorr, is wipe the slate clean. Forget everything you know about Derick, everything you know about conventional psychology, everything you know about every other kid who's come through this office. Gone. Then figure it all out again, with him in mind."

"That's a big order. I mean, forget everything?" Dr. Shorr laughed. The principal joined in.

Alice didn't.

Marylou.

"Yeah, it is. But for these kids, people like me are even rarer than people like them. Figure out what makes the kid giddy, and work from there. Then find what makes him so scared he shakes. Those are your extremes, and there will be more than just two, believe me. But everything else encompassed within those extremes are what makes their minds tick. It's a lot of trial and error, but it's rarely a shot in the dark."

_A few Hail Marys, but not a shot in the dark_, Alice thought, remembering this morning.

Dr. Shorr nodded in silent agreement at Alice's paused, figuring the speech was over. "If I get permission from Derick and his mother, then I'll open up Derick's file to you, help you get an understanding."

"Thank you," Dr. Shorr said. "And I trust you'll be available if I find Derick's case a bit trying?"

"Absolutely," Alice chuckled, wondering if the woman knew exactly what she was getting into.

The meeting itself took about an hour, but the post-meeting discussion took two. Alice, who was a veteran of these discussions, was aware of the need to do this. Psychologically, academically, intellectually, Derick needed his teachers to know what to expect. And it was her duty, as Dr. Guinyard, to attend.

But Alice didn't _wanna._

Teachers hated psychiatrists. They thought psychiatrists were pompous, overeducated, erudite little pissants who use words like "counterproductive" and "nonpareil" to justify their hourly rates. And Alice didn't blame them, psychiatrists could be a pain in the ass. It just didn't mean they couldn't be right.

They hated the idea of a psychiatrist coming into their school, telling them how to teach their student; even one so gifted as Derick. The last thing they wanted was someone stepping on their toes.

So Alice gave them what she'd learned from experience. Told them stories of how Derick can make leaps of logic, correctly, and have you dancing around your words. She told them to expect for him to ask questions a freshman in college to ask, because he would be thinking that far ahead. But, she suggested, try to get him to write the question down; once he recognizes that the question is so far ahead of the other students, he'll understand asking it aloud will be socially damaging. Then he'd be more likely to ask quietly, after class.

When Alice was finally released she'd been forced into the promise that she'd speak with the Seed-Koepnick family that evening about releasing Derick's records. At that time she'd been at the school for three-and-a-half hours, had missed lunch, had a headache from caffeine, and was probably suffering from the early stages of an ulcer.

She was so completely absorbed in her own thoughts on the meetings and things she had yet to do, that she didn't realize someone was leaning against her car. When she did recognize him, Alice was barely a dozen feet away; far, far too close for comfort.

She gasped and dropped her keys.

"Hello, doctor Guinyard," he sneered, walking towards her.

"Mr. Seed," Alice said, straightening her head, looking him in the face, praying he didn't see the fear that was knotting her stomach.

Michael Seed was Christopher and Derick's father, Emily's ex-husband, and someone sufficiently terrifying that the courts in New York had given Emily sole custody of the boys and each one of them restraining orders.

And it had been Alice who gave lynchpin testimony for all of it.

"I wasn't aware you were in LA," Alice said, standing her ground. "Don't you still live in New York?"

"I live where ever my son is." Michael said, stopping inches from Alice's face, grinning at her, exuding all the comfort of a screaming cougar. Then he stooped and picked up her keys, making a hideous mockery of whatever chivalry there was left in the world.

_My son_. Singular.

It didn't take a genius to figure out which son he was speaking of.

Derick.

Michael had taken a different stance than his then-wife had when Derick was identified as a very gifted little boy. Michael had wanted to pull Derick out of school and teach him from home, push him harder than Derick's young mind would have been able to handle. All Michael wanted was for his son to be the next Einstein. It had taken a a trial in kiddie court to get the judge to rule in favor of Emily, who had the more moderate opinion of letting Derick skip a few grades.

And he had ordered family therapy.

Which brought them to Alice's mentor, which brought them to her.

Michael had gone for no more sessions than were court-ordered. Emily kept taking herself and the boys, recognizing how difficult their life was going to get.

And when the pair had split, Michael sued for custody of Derick.

Only Derick.

Scarring both boys and creating Derick's genius as a wall between them.

Alice had testified in favor of giving Emily custody. When the judge pronounced his decision, Michael threatened his family and Alice.

Restraining orders were issued. Alice let hers lapse, thinking him a jealous father reacting to the moment. Emily didn't.

And at this moment Alice was beginning to question the wisdom of letting it expire.

"You know you're not supposed to come within 500 yards of your sons' school," Alice bluffed, praying, however naively, that this would be enough to scare Michael away.

Michael laughed. "In New York. Since moving here my bitch of an ex-wife failed to file a new one. I can _legally_ get as close to my son as I want."

Alice decided to try a different approach. She sighed, shifted her weight, crossed her arms, and tried to look determined. "Tell me what you want, Michael, and then get outta here."

"Stay the hell away from the boy, or so help me, I will gut you, the bitch, and anyone who comes in my way."

Alice kept staring at him, willing her face impassive throughout all of this. But apparently Michael Seed was satisfied with this threat. He dangled Alice's keys in front of her face, and when she went to grab them, he tossed them into the gutter and spat on them once for good measure.

She waited until Michael had walked out of sight before moving to get them, her hands trembling.


	5. Chapter V

A/N: Hey, sorry it took me a while to get this written. The muse wasn't cooperating. Still isn't. This section may not be as great as I might want it, but it'll do. Enjoy.

Chapter Five:

Geniuses are annoying.

Particularly little geniuses.

Particularly when they find out a close elder knows a bigger genius.

Especially when said bigger genius makes wild ass accusations against accepted mathematical theory.

In fact, now, said bigger genius wasn't much more appealing to said close elder, because one would think genius has an ego, and the big genius would want to talk about said wild ass accusations.

Explain them, perhaps.

But according to Einstein, and now big genius, genius _doesn't_ have an ego.

"_I'm sorry, Ali, really. If I'd known it'd be vital to this kid's mental health, I'd have explained_." Charlie laughed.

Alice had called him to explain why she'd ran out this morning. Currently she was barricaded in a bathroom, the only place inside the house where she could get away from Derick. She'd made the mistake of calling Charlie by name while in the living room. Derick, who'd been on the computer looking for more of Charlie's theories to debate her on, came bursting from the study. She'd managed to shoo him away, but since then he'd developed the unfortunate habit of popping up around corners and from behind sofas. After this afternoon, her nerves couldn't handle many more unexpected assaults.

"This is all your fault, you realize that, right?" she jabbed. "If you hadn't been such a brain, I'd have gone into nice, normal psychiatry, with bipolars and schizophrenics, not twelve-year-olds debating String Theory!"

"_Oh come on, we're not that bad,_" Charlie said, still laughing. Years ago Mrs. Eppes had commented to Alice about how unself-conscious Charlie was about his genius around her. Even Ryan, as close as he was to Charlie, was likely to inspire squirms with the pointed jabs like Ali used. But with her, Charlie laughed and leaned back.

"Damn it, Charlie, the kid hadn't left me alone for the last four hours! And I know for a fact that this mother would love to sit and have a nice, semi-normal conversation with him." _Especially after I laid that bombshell about Michael on her_.

But Charlie didn't know this. " _'Semi-normal'?_ "

"Yes, 'semi-normal'. You forget, I work with the likes of you people all day."

" '_You people'?_ "

"What, is there an echo in here, Charlie?"

"Can I talk to him yet?" Derick asked, bursting through the door, it's flimsy lock having given way.

"Derick!" Alice screamed. "Is this how you behave with your mother?"

"You're not using it!"

"Out!"

All of this took place on a decibel level that, had Charlie hung up the phone and stuck his head out of the window, he'd still have heard the exchange clearly.

"_I do hope you know that if I discover a sudden loss of hearing in one ear, I'm sending you the medical bills,_" Charlie said, facetiously. "_And dare I even ask what he meant by 'you're not using it'?_ "

Alice sighed. There were only three options: one, tell him and get teased for a few minutes; two, refuse to tell him and be bombarded by an endless assault of good-natured and highly pointed questions for the next hour; or three, change the subject. She knew changing the subject would by ineffective, and it would show Charlie a topic she'd rather not discuss; which would only lead to further questioning. So she decided to bite the bullet.

"First sign of teasing, I hand the phone over to the kid," she warned.

"_Agreed._"

"I had to barricade myself in the bathroom to get away from him."

Alice could practically hear the debate going on in Charlie's head.

"_If you'd like some privacy I can hang up,_" he finally said, straining to keep his voice level.

"Charlie," Alice warned.

"_No, no I understand. A lot of people find my conversation stimulating. I just didn't realize I had this effect on you._"

Alice opened the door. "Derick?"

"_Hey, wait, Ali_," she heard Charlie say, but she was already handing over the phone.

"Yeah?" the boy said, he'd been laying on the floor, his ear to the crack beneath the door, hoping to hear the conversation.

"Here. Charlie wants to talk to you. Said he could explain things better than I could."

"Really?" Derick's eyes lit up as he grabbed the cell. "Hello?"

"_Hi, is this Derick?_" Ali heard Charlie say as she walked past the boy.

Oh yes, these minutes were _definitely_ going to be worth it.

Alice found Emily in the kitchen, her hands burning with a nervous energy at her task. Currently it was chopping carrots for dinner. So fast. Too fast. She was going to cut herself if she wasn't careful. Alice stepped into the kitchen, and took the knife from her.

"Why don't I do that for a while," Alice said, a weak command rather than a question.

"I'm perfectly fine," Emily said, a little too fast. She turned away from the carrots, abandoning them, choosing instead to start washing dishes. Again, nervous energy fell off her in waves. "I'm just making dinner, Dr. Guinyard."

"Yes, of course you are. But you only call me 'Dr. Guinyard' when you're nervous."

"And I have every right to be nervous!" Emily snapped, glaring at Ali with fury. "I have every right to worried, and scared out of my mind, and to jump at every little sound on the street. I'm allowed to do that!" Emily's voice broke and she started crying. The only sound her crying made was the hissing in of breath every few second. Other than that, Emily was silent as the tears fell. Alice abandoned the carrots and made her way to Emily's side, wanting to wrap the woman in a hug, let her cry on a shoulder for a while.

But no sooner had Alice touched Emily that the young mother, stood upright, wiping the tears away. "I shouldn't be doing this. If one of the boys came in..." her voice trailed off. She paused a moment, then spoke. "I'd have to explain. And I can't explain." She chuckled angrily. "But if I don't explain, then they'll think it's because of Derick. I don't think either of them can handle that right now."

"No, no they couldn't." Alice hated to say it, but Emily was right. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't cry."

Emily smiled, understanding what Alice was saying. "No. Don't worry. I'll let it out, I will. Just not now. I need to be a mother first."

"Just so long as you take care of yourself."

Emily nodded and smiled. In the silence they could hear Derick talk to Charlie.

"I still can't believe you know someone like Charles Eppes. From the way Derick's been talking about him all afternoon, it's like the man solves problems in his sleep."

"He wasn't always Dr. Eppes. When I first met him, he was younger than Derick. His family sort of adopted me."

"Oh?"

"My home," Alice said slowly, not caring to relive the memory. "It wasn't happy. My parents, they probably loved each other dearly, but they weren't the sort of people who should be together. Too fiery. Too unpredictable. Not the sort to just let a matter go; they always had to fight it to death. Our neighbors used to call them the hellions across the street.

"But the Eppes were ... stable. Not normal, not with Charlie, but considering what I came from, it was heavenly. I mean, I was used to being woken up by the sound of breaking furniture, but instead of it being used to punctuated sentences, it was Charlie accidentally upending his desk while searching for a book. By the end of freshman year I was spending a night a week at their place, and by the end of senior year, I had moved in."

"What did your parents think of that?"

"Well, nothing. They died in a car accident in January of my senior year. I'd already been accepted to UCLA at that point, so the Eppes' let me stay with them until school started. That should give you a pretty good idea of the character of the family, when they start taking in strays."

"All who wander aren't lost, Alice."

"Except when they're lost in thought," Ali chuckled. "At which point, they _are_ lost, and will probably be calling in a few minutes for directions."

Emily laughed as Derick came in.

"Hey, kiddo, have a nice chat?" Alice asked, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," Derick sighed as he sank into a chair, grinning from ear to ear contentedly in a can-the-world-get-any-better way. "But your battery died. Sorry."

He handed her the guilty object.

"No problem at all. Did you get to finish your conversation, though?" Ali asked, looking over at Emily, who was smiling at her son. No traces of the fear and apprehension of a moment ago. No, Emily knew now not to discount the moments of quiet joy, the way that most people do. Oh, she knew the reasons for worry were still there, but, right now, her child was happy and safe.

"Yeah." Derick perked up after a few minutes. "Charlie told me to tell you that he has classes from three o'clock to four forty-five, and then from six-twenty to eight-fifteen."

"He did?" Alice asked, not liking the sound of where this conversation was heading.

"Yeah. 'Cause that's when you're gonna take me to meet him, right? He said you and he talked about it."

It didn't matter that, in fact, Alice and Charlie hadn't spoken about it. Derick and Charlie had spoken about it, and Charlie knew that Alice wouldn't back down now.

And the games continued.

_Damn him_, Alice thought, smiling at Derick. "Of course we talked about it," Alice lied. "And if it's okay with your mom, I'll take you."

"Yes!" Derick said, jumping up from his seat. "Can I go, Mom?"

"If you get your make-up homework done tonight, sure." Emily said, adding quickly. "And so long as you're back for dinner. You'd probably spend the night in his classroom, if you could."

No sooner were the words out of Emily's mouth than the boy was out of the kitchen and running to his room.

"You sure about this?" Emily asked. "I mean, you know how Derick gets when he's excited."

Alice nodded, the memory clear in her mind of a day at Central Park with the family last summer. She'd gotten all of her patients and their families to come on the outing, getting the kids to interact with other like them, parents given a chance to exchange notes and phone numbers, letting them all be normal for a day.

Derick had gotten excited. Manic, even. And he'd overturned a picnic table, destroyed a Slip 'n' Slide, and fractured his arm before Walt was able to grab him. It took the better part of an hour to calm him down.

"I know the signs, I'll keep a close eye on him."

"And you're okay with it? You didn't sound too sure."

"It just a game Charlie and I have playing for years," Alice said, waving her concern off. "Derick and I will be just fine."

"And you said that Ryan will be coming in tomorrow? What time?"

"He's got a 5:45 flight out of JFK, but there's a snow storm that's supposed to be coming in tomorrow evening. He said that he'll give me a call when he lands, or if flights change. And are you certain you want us staying here? I mean, Alan, that is, Mr. Eppes, Charlie's dad, would be more than happy to let Ryan and I stay in the guest room." _Though technically I should be asking Charlie. Hmm._

"No, no, no," Emily said, shaking her head. "It's fine. Besides, you're still having nightly talks with Derick, I've been hearing you. If he needs you, I don't want to turn you away. That is, unless you want to leave, then you have every right."

Alice smiled but shook her head, having her answer.

"Well," Emily said, putting the finishing touches on dinner. "If you'll call the boys, I'll get this on the table.

That evening, as Alice was laying down to bed, she took a look at her text messages. There was one.

_CHECK MATE._


	6. Chapter VI

A/N: Hello to everyone. Just a little note. There is no BBR theorem, just a random title I came up with.

Chapter Six:

Three blocks from the campus, Alice glanced in the mirror as she slowed and pulled off to the side of the road. Behind her a burgundy truck turned off onto a side road. She'd been paying closer attention to where ever she went, whatever was around her, since she left the house with Derick that afternoon. Her head was on straighter today, but Michael Seed's threats still echoed in her mind. If he was going to make a move, he'd have to come in close, Alice reasoned. And she wanted to catch him before he got close enough to hurt Derick.

"Last chance to back out," Alice said. The smart ass in her wondered if she was offering a way out to the boy, or to herself.

"No! No. No," Derick shook his head. "I want to meet him."

Alice nodded, keeping an eye on him. Since he'd gotten home from school, Derick had spiked between hyperactive and sedentary, alternately excited and terrified. Considering he was about to meet one of his idols, Alice didn't blame him. If someone offered to introduce her to Kevin Costner, Alice doubted she'd be able to pour a cup of coffee, hold a decently intellectual conversation, or pass a field sobriety test.

"Okay, rules." Alice said. When Derick nodded she continued. "First, when I say it time to leave, we go. No questions asked."

"Uh huh."

"Second, if I tell you it's time to take a break, we do. You drop whatever it is you're working on, and do what I say."

"Okay."

"Third, if one of Charlie's students asks him for help, he helps them. You do not interrupt, and you only look at the material if the student says it okay. Fourth. You are not to touch the blackboard, white board, erasers, chalk, markers, paper, pens, pencils, textbooks, or computers unless Charlie says it's okay. Did I miss anything?"

"Overhead projectors," Derick laughed.

"Okay, all of it. Good?"

"Good." Derick nodded.

"Fifth. If you break anything, you'll replace it. And if you break any of these rules, I will drag you out of there so fast..."

"I know, I know. Mom threatens the same thing. I guess all you mothers are the same."

A painful knot twisted in Alice's heart at those words. "I'm not a mom, Derick."

"Yeah, but you treat us like you're our mom." Derick looked over and saw the darkness in Alice's eyes. He got scared. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

She laughed a little, for his sake, and smiled, ruffling his hair. "Of course it is. Now what do you say, are we going or what?"

"Yeah," Derick nodded.

Alice glanced over her shoulder, checking for traffic, and saw the burgundy truck waiting to pull out of a side street. As they continued towards the Cal Sci campus, Alice kept looking back in the rear view mirror, watching the progression of the truck. It never pulled out of the side street, and Alice calmed herself down. How many times had she herself pulled onto a residential street to fish something out of her purse, answer a phone call, pull her hair into a pony tail? It was irrational to think that every car behind hers was Michael's.

Alice still kept an eye on it, though.

When they pulled into the Cal Sci parking lot, Alice saw the students filing out onto the lawn, and she knew that Charlie's class had just ended.

"Okay, squirt, you ready?" Derick took a deep breath, staring out the window at the students, and Alice noticed his hands shaking. "We can take a few minutes to walk around the campus, if you want."

Derick shook his head, but didn't make a move towards the door.

"Derick?" Alice asked, and when he didn't answer, she pulled out her cell. "If you want, I can call Charlie right now and you can talk to him for a few minutes before we go in."

"No, I'm okay," he said softly.

Alice wondered if this was the right thing, maybe it was moving too fast, but she stopped herself. She'd run over this a hundred times last night, while she spoke to Derick after his family had gone to bed, during his late-night wanderings. Each time she came back to the understanding that this was a good thing. Derick needed to learn how to get over his fears, or at least, move past them.

She decided then that the straight forward approach was best.

"Good," Alice climbed out of the rental car, threw her bag over her shoulder, walked around the car, and opened Derick's door. Holding out her hand to him, she said, "Coming?"

Derick smiled at her, and took her hand. She could still feel his shaking, but as they walked to the door, his grip got tighter. Finally, when her bones started protesting at the squeeze, she said. "Derick, I do hope you understand there are bones in here."

He looked confused for a moment, stopping in his tracks, trying to decrypt her saying. Alice was struck, once again, at how much like Charlie Derick was. She remembered back to high school, coming across Charlie standing in the middle of a hallway during passing period, eyes glazed over as he pondered some sticking point in his brain. Alice did this with every patient, even when she knew she shouldn't; it wasn't fair to Charlie, or to her patients, but occasionally her mind just brought forth these parallels.

Alice lifted her hand into Derick's sight, and the boy laughed, dropping his hand. He skipped a few steps ahead of her, and started jumping back and forth while Alice caught back up. Glancing around her, Alice saw a few students turn their heads, but most ignored this intrusion upon their hall of learning.

And she didn't see any indication of the burgundy truck.

When they got to Charlie's classroom, Derick skipped ahead a few steps, but when he didn't hear Alice following, he turned to see Alice standing next to a door. She could hear Charlie stop writing on the chalkboard for a moment, and then start again. He knew they were here, but he and Alice had spoken about this earlier today. If Charlie acted nervous and formal about the encounter, Derick would get nervous and might shut down. If Charlie acted normal, Derick would follow suit. Ali took heart to know that Charlie was making a genuine effort for this kid.

Derick's eyes grew wide when he looked at the name plack on the door. He raised his eyebrows and pointed to the door.

Alice nodded at the unspoken question.

Derick took a few steps forward , stopping on the other side of the door, and peeked in. Seeing Charlie he jumped back a step, with a muffled yelp. Out of the corner of her eye, Ali saw Charlie smother a smile. It wasn't often that he was considered to intimidating.

"He's not gonna bite," Alice whispered, smiling at Derick. When the boy still didn't make a move, Ali knew she was going to have to. "Fine," she said aloud, turning into the room. "Hey ya, Charlie."

"Hi, Ali," Charlie said, looking up at her. Even though he'd heard the exchange in the hallway, he played dumb. "I thought you said you were bringing Derick along."

"I'm here," Derick said, running into the room. "Just had to tie my shoe lace."

"Ah, well, hello, Derick, I'm Charlie." Charlie shook Derick's hand, causing the boy to grin.

Suddenly tongue tied, Derick said nothing, and Charlie shot a glance to Alice, who took the hint. Walking over to the chalk board, she looked at the problem. "So, what're you working on?"

"Oh, it's just a proof for some of my students. Testing the BBR theorem."

Alice didn't know much about math, but Charlie had explained to her the BBR theorem once, when they were in high school. It was a simple theorem, one that she understood abstractly, though she didn't see the beauty in it that Charlie did. She doubted that she'd be able to work with it, but it was familiar. And Ali also figured that for a student to get into Cal Sci, to be in Charlie's advanced mathematics classes, they'd have already encountered BBR, well beyond the proof stage. This was entirely for Derick's benefit.

"BBR theorem?" Derick asked, confused, looking at the blackboard.

"Yeah," Charlie said, smiling. He looked back to Alice, who nodded almost imperceptibly, a fencers' nod, as her father would have said. He turned away and started to explain. Soon enough chalk was out, and the blackboard chirped every once in a while. Ali watched, as fascinated by Derick and Charlie as they were by the problem. It was a rare chance for her, to compare the actions of two geniuses, to contrast the differences brought with age and experience.

They acted in opposition to each other. Whenever Charlie moved towards the board, Derick took a step back. When Derick moved in, Charlie stepped back. Alice doubted this was merely to make room for the other at the chalkboard.

Charlie was calm, collected, even-toned and simple in his explanations. Derick bounced with a nervous energy, his voice changed pitch and speed when he spoke, and over-clarified Charlie's answers as he explained them to himself.

Charlie broke eye contact with the board occasionally, glancing down at Derick often, but the boy kept focused on the board.

Both of them ignored Alice.

At least, right up until she turned away from them, and walked to the window, her high heels echoing off the walls. Then they both jumped and turned, looking at her sharply for breaking their concentration.

Ali chuckled. "Sorry," she said, sitting down in a chair by the window. _Figures_, she thought. _When ever you want their attention, it's like convincing a dog to give up it's bone. When you don't want, all you have to do is walk._

But whatever humor she had fell away when she looked out the window.

He was there.

Michael.

Standing behind a row of cars, hidden from the street by a line of tall bushes, looking up and down the campus.

Searching.

Without a thought, Alice stood up, and walked to Charlie, taking a hold of his elbow. "Charlie," she said, softly, pulling him towards the door. She prayed Derick didn't hear the fear in her voice.

"Hey!" the boy said, realizing his teacher was being pulled away.

"I knew him first," Alice snapped as she kept dragging Charlie away from Derick.

"What's wrong?" Charlie whispered, knowing immediately that something wasn't right. Far, far from right. Alice had planned this meeting with him for almost an hour this morning, she wouldn't break the game plan unless it was something important. That was what logic told him.

Then there was the way she looked. Her features pinched; the thin line of her lips, the slight furrowing of her eyebrows, the way her eyes kept going back to the window. And she'd grabbed his elbow, like she used to do when they were in school and things were about to get bad. To this day no one could touch his elbow without him shuddering at the memory.

"Listen, lock the door, and don't _anyone_ in. Not even if they say that they're Derick's father."

Alice made to leave, but this time it was Charlie who grabbed her arm.

"Alice, what's going on? Don't do that."

Alice took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. He'd called her "Alice," he only did that when he was scared or worried, and that hadn't been for years. _Don't do that_. Alice knew what that meant. _Don't hide things from me. Don't be like everyone else and try to protect me._ It was unfair for her to, she knew that as well, but a part of her still saw Charlie as a an eight-year old freshman, a twelve-year old senior, someone who needed to be protected.

Letting out the breath, she opened her eyes and explained, "Um, Derick's father doesn't custody of him, okay? In New York, there's a restraining order against him, but there's not one here in California. If Michael gets a chance to take Derick, Charlie, he'll take him."

"Okay, why are you telling me this?"

"He's here, now, outside. I just saw him in the parking lot."

Charlie, to his credit, didn't dwell on this for more than a second "So, what, do we call the police?"

Alice shook her head. She'd talked to Don yesterday afternoon, asking his professional opinion on the situation. "There's been nothing overt to constitute him as a threat. There's no such charge as _attempted_ custodial interference. The most that can be done is the police telling him to move along."

"Then I'll call Don."

"Charlie, he can't do anything." Had Derick not been there, Alice didn't doubt that she'd be shouting now. But he was, so she kept her voice to a whisper.

"I know, but he's still a badge. It might be enough to scare him off."

Alice saw the determination in Charlie's eye and knew it'd be useless to try and dissuade him of the idea. The man was nothing if not stubborn. "Fine, but wait about five minutes, let me try to talk to him, get him to go away. It's worked before," she added, hoping Charlie chose not to question her on it. Charlie could be gullible, but he knew when he was being lied to.

"Okay," Charlie said, nodding as he looked at the clock. It was five seventeen and forty two second. He'd give her five minutes. Well, probably more like four and a half, but that was splitting hairs. "Clock's ticking."

"I'm just going to step outside for a minute, Derick," Alice said to the young man staring at the blackboard. "You okay in here?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, not looking away from the board.

Alice gave Charlie one last look and stepped outside.


	7. Chapter VII: Alice

A/N: Okay, I'm gonna start splitting up who's the central character in each chapter. Different POVs, but still third person. Up until here, it's all been centered around Alice, but now you'll get to see the rest of the gang. It should be obvious who the main character for each chapter is, but I'll put it in the chapter title also, just to be redundant.

Chapter Seven: Alice

The walk down the hallway was perhaps one of the longest of her life, and, for the life of her, Alice couldn't figure out what she'd do if found Michael. Somehow she didn't believe "Get the fuck out of here, Michael" would cut it. And a terrified and slightly hysterical portion of her mind was screaming at Charlie for not stopping her.

Alice stepped outside, pausing a few paces outside of the door, letting her eyes adjust to the harsh California sun. She had barely come to a stop when she felt someone grab her arm and pulled her down the covered walkway.

"Mr. Seed," Alice hissed, trying to pull away.

"Dr. Guinyard," Michael said, low and calm, as if he were speaking to his neighbor rather than dragging an unwilling woman away. "Where's my son?"

"Go to hell."

Michael tightened his grip until his nails started biting into the sensitive flesh of her arm. He increased his speed, pulling her faster along the walkway, and she pulled away, more violently this time. Alice prayed any one of the kids on the campus greens would see her. She opened her mouth to scream for help, when she felt something bite into her side.

"I wouldn't say anything, if I were you, Dr. Guinyard." Michael hissed into her ear.

Alice screwed up her courage and looked down, seeing a knife pressed against her side. A two-inch pocket knife, the kind which seemed so childish in the hands of an eight-year old, but now, as it glittered in the sun, Alice's heart started pounding and she tasted bile. His words yesterday pounded through her head.

_I will gut you, the bitch, and anyone who comes in my way._

"What do you want?" Alice asked, willing the fear from her voice and failing.

"I told you to stay away from the boy," he said as they turned a corner, walking further away from the campus greens and the students.

But also away from Charlie, and from Derick. That had to count for something.

She looked at her watch. It was five nineteen. She had three more minutes until Charlie made the call. If he could convince Don it would still take him another ten to get here, if Don had the sirens on. If Alice could keep Michael occupied until then, and if Don could find them, Michael would be arrested, and everyone would be safe. If he didn't decide to kill her now and go looking for his son.

If, if, if. Suddenly Alice hated those two letter.

"I took him to meet one of the foremost physicists in the US, Mr. Seed. You should be thankful." Alice lied. Each lie put her in danger, but it also pulled Michael's attention away from Charlie and Derick in the math department. That meant another minute he'd spend searching for his son, another minute. "Give him someone who recognizes his talent, shapes it? Turns him into the next Einstein. Isn't that what you wanted? I'm helping him..."

"I told you to stay away from him. I _warned you_." Michael threw Alice hard against the wall, and she cracked her skull against the brick. Her head exploded, and a cry was strangled in her mouth as he grabbed her throat. Between the lack of oxygen to her brain and the blow to the head, Alice felt the world tilt sideways, and she fought against losing consciousness.

_Come on, Ali, stay with it_, she thought to herself as she felt blood starting to trickle down the back of her skull. _You're no good to anyone unconscious_.

"The bitch only listens to you. It started with you!" Michael said, throwing her down the corridor.

As she pulled oxygen into her burning lungs, Alice didn't quite feel like bringing up the fact that Emily and Michael were arguing about Derick long before they were ordered into psychiatric help. Somehow she didn't think logic would help her position.

"If you'd gone, when I told you to, I wouldn't have had to do this."

Alice was still gasping and dazed, and only dimly recognized that her chances of getting away now were effectively gone. When she felt him pull her off the ground, and press the knife into her side again, she knew they were. This time, Michael's grasp on the blade was harder, more aggressive, and Alice felt the sharp blade slicing through her blouse, pricking against her skin. Bile rose to her throat, and she cried out, "You don't have to! I swear you don't have to!" She stopped, swallowing hard, forced the hysteria out of her voice. "We can talk about this, okay? We can work this out. What do you want?"

In response, Michael back handed her across the face, and Alice tasted blood. The knife pressed harder against her side; she didn't feel the skin split, but she felt the blood start trickling down.

Between the pain in her head and the fire splitting through her side, Alice knew she didn't have much time, certainly not the dozen minutes that it would take for Don to arrive, for her to be found. Knowing this tactic wasn't working, she shifted gears. Alice knew that if she stopped thinking, she'd start begging, and that wouldn't work to her favor.

_Not that this was helping_, she thought fatalistically.

"What is it, Mr. Seed, that you hate so much about me? Is it that I keep trying to help him?" she spat as he dragged her around another corner. "Or you can't stand the thought that I _know_ you're trading your child's sanity for some fame?"

"Shut up!" Michael snapped, angered, sliding the blade forward, tearing open skin. Alice bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, she was not going to give him the satisfaction.

"Or what?" she taunted. Alice knew if she stopped speaking, stopped the offensive, she'd start thinking of all the what ifs, and she'd never fight again. "You'll stab me with that little knife? Then you'll go jail, and I promise you, Emily will not let you near that kid! And no court in the land would let you see him. So just leave, Michael. Go, now, while you still have a _chance_ of getting custody back."

He sneered at her as he pushed her into a wall again. Alice bumped the welt forming on the back, and saw stars.

"I'm taking my son!"

"The only thing you'll get is a jail cell," Alice said, swallowing the pain. Charlie may not have been making the call yet, but Alice doubted she'd be up for more of his abuse. "I called a friend before I left the classroom. He works at the FBI! I told him about your little threat yesterday, and how I saw you waiting outside the classroom. He's on his way over here, hot shot. And this, right here, counts as assault, and I could make a case for attempted kidnapping. I guarantee you, I will see you in a jail cell before I leave the state!"

Alice saw a moment of panic in his eyes, but watched in horror as it shifted to something worse.

"Then what incentive do I have, doctor, to keep you alive?"


	8. Chapter VII: Charlie

A/N: I know, it's taken me a little while to get this up. Sorry. Hope it's worth it. So, I've done my thing, now you do yours and review!

Chapter Seven: Charlie

Watching the door close, Charlie started counting the seconds. Normally it relaxed him, like running through number sequences in his head. Prime numbers, Fibonacci's sequence, binary code, different bases, they were relaxing to his overworked brain. Letting him wind down after a long day, but now, right now, they came so slowly. His heart beat faster than these numbers came.

It was fifteen seconds after the door closed that Derick called to him.

"Dr. Eppes? I'm stuck," he said, Charlie could hear the confusion in his voice. When Charlie looked over at Derick, the boy was staring at the blackboard, chalk in his right hand, eraser in his left.

Charlie stared at the boy for a moment, watching the setting sun turn Derick's whole face into a shadow. He wondered how often he was watched in this position, had they ever stood there wondering what he was wondering?

Probably not.

They didn't have to wonder about parents kidnapping him.

"Call me Charlie," he said, smiling at Derick as he walked, taking a look at his work. The problem was easy to spot, and he explained while another portion of his mind kept wondering. Alice was hiding something; he'd seen it in her eyes. He knew her well enough to know when she held something back.

What didn't she tell him?

Why?

Probably because of Derick. If he'd tried, Derick would have been able to hear their conversation. But he'd been so engrossed in the proof, he hadn't so much as looked up when she left the room, leaving him with a total stranger.

How had she known the police couldn't arrest Derick's father? Had she talked to the police? Alice probably called Don. She wouldn't have to explain as much to him, Don would understand and he'd help. It was a logical choice. She'd do that, especially if she was as worried as she seemed to be.

How had Derick's father known where he'd be? Alice wouldn't have told him. Neither would Derick's mother, if things were as bad they must be. Derick? Maybe a brother or sister? He knew Derick had a brother, anyone else? Stepfather? Stepmother, maybe. Did he follow them?

There were too many unknowns. He should have asked more questions.

Charlie glanced at the clock, it'd been only forty second.

He walked over to the windows, the math now looked uninteresting. Charlie tried to imagine what Don would think if he'd heard that thought. _Math, uninteresting_, Charlie shook his head, amused at the thought. _He wouldn't believe it. Larry would probably stammer until he passed out._

No one understood that. Charlie had only realized that lately, since he'd started working with Don again. Well, maybe before that, when Don came back to LA, and they started getting closer. But especially since Don got hurt in the bank shoot out. That was when he realized it: the math was always going to be there, it's people who weren't.

The math was a constant. Eternal. Even if Charlie solved every problem he could ever solve, there would still be more left to uncover. If he had a hundred lifetimes, he'd still only have figured out a fraction of it all. And for a long time, it had been the search which drove him. But he learned it wasn't everything in his life; it couldn't be anymore. He wouldn't let it be.

Maybe he should have realized it when his mother died, understood that math shouldn't be everything in his life; it was certainly when this whole gradual realization started. But, he supposed, it didn't really hit him because parents are _supposed_ to die before their children. It wasn't pleasant, but it's a fact of life.

And then there was Don.

In the back of an ambulance, bleeding.

And yes, big brothers were supposed to die before little brothers, but not so soon. Not so young.

It scared him, and so he reverted to the math, to P vs. NP, but it taught him something. That P vs. NP was always going to be there. Math was always going to be there But people, people like his mother, and Don, and every other person on the planet was only going to be here once. Now.

Which is why this situation scared him. Charlie didn't know what Alice was facing, he didn't even know who she was facing. Charlie hadn't asked what Derick's father looked like, hell, not even his name. Alice was out there, alone, and Charlie couldn't help her in any way other than watching the kid.

How many times had she helped him?

And with that thought the memories came back...

_When she called Charlie over to sit at her table, with her friends, giving up her place so he could sit towards the middle of their group, away from Kevin Wilcox, an upper classmen who had a grudge against Charlie._

_When the first french fry hit Caroline's face, Charlie started to pack up his bag. The first people who were nice to him since school began and it was over._

"_Where are you going?" Ali asked._

"_You're going to get hit if I stay._

"_It's just food," Ryan said. "Besides, I have better aim."_

_And he remembered smiling in amazement as Kevin Wilcox had to go through the rest of the day smelling like the tuna fish sandwich smeared on his shirt._

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_Ali skipping class for the third time that month in order to find Charlie after the fight. It'd been between Geometry and Spanish, one of the only times when he didn't have any friends to walk with._

_He was hiding in the boy's bathroom, but when she heard Charlie crying in the stalls, she walked in without fanfare. She swung each of the stalls open until he found Charlie's locked._

"_Come on, Charlie, open the door."_

"_No. Just go back to class."_

"_Too late, Mr. Pimental locks the door when the bell rings. Now come on, I'll wait with you in the office until your mom and dad come."_

"_No."_

"_We've been looking for you."_

_Charlie didn't have to wonder who she was talking about, and it wasn't the principles. "So?"_

"_Charlie when you get monosyllabic, I get worried."_

"_So don't."_

_She sighed. "Fine, you want to sit in this reeking bathroom for the rest of the day, that's your choice. Either way, when I leave here, I'm calling your parents and telling them where they can find you."_

_Charlie sighed and unlocked the door. It was bad enough that he'd been beaten up and he'd hidden in the bathroom, but for his parents to find him there..._

_Ali walked with him down to the office, and when he didn't want to explain to his parents, she made the call. And when Mrs. Ronquillo, the secretary, asked if Alice would like to go back to class, Alice responded no, she was fine right here._

"_I'd like you to go back to class."_

"_And I'm certain you'd also like a pay raise and a few extra weeks vacation, but it ain't gonna happen."_

_Charlie had to bury a laugh as Mrs. Ronquillo gave up._

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_When Don made the varsity baseball team, and Charlie went to every game. He asked Ali to come with him to the game. Ali saying she had a lot of homework. Every game, it was too much homework, a project, a test. And then his mom explain that Ali wanted him and Don to have something special they could do together._

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_When her parents died, how she ran from the room when ever he came in, afraid of letting him see her cry. How Ali would lock herself in the guest room, away from him and from everyone._

_How on the day of the wake, everyone stopped him when he went to knock on her door. How he went into the back yard and looked in her window, to see if she was okay. How she laughed after she caught him trying to sneak a look. The first time she'd laughed in days._

_She opened her window, pulled him inside, and talked to him. How she cried, and made him promise to always tell his parents that he loves them, even when he's angry at them, because she didn't and now her parents were dead, and they didn't know._

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_When he graduated from college, with a Ph. D. in mathematics, how she flew back to LA from New York. She had only that day to spend there, flying in at three in the morning, after she got off her shift at the NYU psych ward, and how she had to go back on a redeye in order to be back for work the next day._

_How he was so scared as he was walking across the stage, but heard her screaming his name. How she was standing on her chair, pulling Don up to stand on his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat._

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_When she got married, how his dad walked her down the aisle and gave her away._

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_When his mother was sick and dying, and he was locked away in the garage working night and day on P vs. NP. How Ali came home to take care of them all, knowing that Don and Alan could take care of Mrs. Eppes, but Charlie needed her._

_How every night she came into the garage and sit down, so quietly, a sandwich and glass of milk with her. She'd be so quiet sometimes that he wouldn't hear her come in, but then she'd talk. He remembered how tired she looked, how sad, but she still took care of him._

_Every night she would convince him to eat the sandwich, drink the milk, and sit down next to her for a little while. And every night, when she got him to sit, he'd fall asleep; and when he woke up there would be a blanket around him, a pillow beneath his head, and another sandwich and and glass of milk on the table._

_How one night as Ali was leaving he woke up and tried to explain why he couldn't go with her, why he couldn't leave this garage. That when he gets upset, his mind solves problems the best, it makes connections he never saw before. How if he stopped, they'd disappear and he'd have to start at the beginning again._

"_I just wish I could read to her," he whispered. "Like she did when I was sick."_

_He hadn't thought Ali had been able to hear him,he'd spoken so softly, but then she asked,_

"_What did she read?"_

"Through the Looking Glass_," he said, glancing at the chalk board, his mind already starting to work._

"_I'll read to her," Ali said simply._

"_Thanks," he said, looking her in the eyes for only a moment before getting up to go to the chalkboard. "Alice?" he asked when she turned to leave._

"_Yeah, Charlie?"_

"_Tell Mom I love her. Make sure she knows it's me. That I'm saying this to her."_

"_Okay," she whispers, turning to leave._

Charlie looks at the clock. It'd been less than a minute.

_Damn it_, Charlie thought, walking to the phone. She could be angry at him if she wanted, but he was calling now. Alice was hiding something, and if it was half as bad as Charlie could imagine, they couldn't waste any time.

"Be good for a minute, Derick, I need to make a phone call."

"Okay," the boy said. "Who're you calling?"

"My brother," Charlie said, stepping into his office. He left the door open and kept an eye on Derick as he dialed. He wasn't worried about Derick walking in, BBR takes time to work out, even if you know what you're doing.

"_Yeah? Eppes,_" Don answered.

"Hi, Don, it's me. Um, I need your help. Actually, it's Ali, she needs your help."

"_What's wrong, Charlie? Is it about Michael Seed?_"

"Uh, yeah. She talked to you about it?"

"_Called me last night, said the guy had threatened to kill her, kidnap his son._"

"Wha... Wait," he shot a look over to Derick. Making certain he lowered his voice, Charlie hissed out, "_Kill her_? Um, where? When?"

"_Yesterday, when she was at the kid's school, um, what's his name..._"

"Derick," Charlie provided. His brain hadn't stopped moving since he heard those words. _That's what she was hiding, that's what she didn't want me to know. I'd have never let her leave if I knew. Why'd she go out there?_

"_Yeah, she used to have a restraining order against him, but it lapsed a few years ago,_" Don said. "_Charlie, what's going on?_"

_Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it_. "He's here, Don. At Cal Sci. Alice went out to confront him. I didn't know everything. I didn't know he threaten to kill her!"

"_Hold on, Michael Seed is there, _now"

"Yeah. Alice brought Derick here today, and when she looked out the window, he was here."

"_Okay, I'm coming over there. Keep an eye on Derick. He's as much a target as Alice is. I'll be there soon._"

"Yeah," Charlie said, hanging up. He did the math in his head, Don's office was half an hour away by bike, twenty by car. If he put on the siren he might cut the time in half. But in ten minutes... what?

_Everything_, his mind screamed. _Anything. Alice could be dead in ten minutes._

"Hey, Derick, how about we take a walk? So I can show you around?" Charlie asked, stepping out of his office.

Derick looked up from the proof to Charlie, then back, split between the two.

"Come on," Charlie said. "That'll be there when we get back. I have a few colleagues I want to introduce you to."

"Sure," Derick shrugged his shoulders, putting the chalk down. "Where are we going first?"

"Uh, I don't know," Charlie said, walking with him down the hallways. "How about we just see where we end up, okay?"

By the time they got outside, Derick was chattering next to Charlie, just throwing out odd statements and questions. Half the time Derick had to repeat what he said, Charlie's mind was not in the conversation, instead he was trying to figure where Alice would go... where Michael might take her.

After a few minutes of wandering, his stomach dropped as he spotted something on the wall at eye level.

Blood. Still wet. And a few pieces of hair.

He was still processing the sight of this when he heard Derick scream.


	9. Chapter VII: Don

A/N: Just a bit of a warning folks, this chapter gets a bit graphic.

Chapter Seven: Don

Don sighed and threw the file he was working on onto his desk. He was getting no where, not with this case or any other; he just couldn't concentrate. His mind kept replaying the conversation he'd had with Alice last night. It wasn't hard for him to believe that Alice had managed to get herself so deeply involved with a custody dispute that she needed a restraining order against one party. Don would probably have been surprised if this was her first. She was a crusader, both personally and professionally, especially when those she was crusading for worked their way under her skin.

Just like the way she kept an eye on Charlie when they were in high school. Don had resented her at first, that she got so close to Charlie, becoming his hero in ways that only Don had been before. But, at the same time, she let Don be normal for the first time in a lot of ways. Alice took care of Charlie, Don trusted her to do that, and he didn't feel as if he needed to watch his little brother so closely while Alice was there.

He envied the relationship between them, in a lot of ways. Alice understood Charlie in ways that Don wasn't able to, ways only his mother had. She could get Charlie to relax in a way Don never was, calm his fears and anxieties with just a few words. Alice was even able to get Charlie to shut up without snapping or otherwise hurting Charlie. Around her Charlie seemed, well, normal, comfortable in his own skin. Any attempt Don made to copy her relationship with his little brother seemed to fall flat, a fraction of the response Alice was able to get.

Maybe it was that ease with the organized chaos that was Charlie's life that led her to be the doctor she was now. Helped lend itself to the crusader she was, and thus, got her into this situation.

Rubbing his face, Don leaned forward and pulled a folder from the stack on his desk and started flipping through it. It was Michael Seed's file. Don had already been through it twice, but he kept coming back, hoping there was something in it he'd missed, something he'd be able to bring the guy in for.

He was violent, Don could see that. There were half a dozen domestic disturbance calls, a few drunken assaults, resisting arrest, but there was nothing more current than three years ago. If Don hadn't known any better he'd have said Michael Seed was getting his life together.

Don was so focused on the file in his hands, lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Terry come up until she spoke.

"Michael Seed?" she asked, reading over his shoulder. "Never heard of him, is that for our case?"

Don shook his head. "Nah, just looking into this for a friend."

Terry's eyebrow quirked. "What, you don't have enough work to do?" she teased.

"Charlie's best friend from high school, she's a child psychiatrist involved in a custodial kidnapping thing with one of her patients. The father confronted her, threatened to kill her if she didn't walk away from it..."

"And I take it she won't?"

Don shook his head. This is what was concerning him; Alice wasn't going to back down now, when her life was threatened, what would happen if Michael Seed was serious? Could she end up dead because of it?

"No, Alice is a pit bull disguised as a poodle."

Terry smirked at the thought; Don could practically hear her thoughts.

_Charlie? _Poodle

He chuckled softly. "Maybe not a poodle. A Lab, then, but you get what I'm saying. Any ways, she called me last night, I said I'd take a look at Seed."

"Anything we can do?" she asked, taking the file from him.

"Nah," Don groaned, rubbing his neck, hoping to work out the knots threatening to grow. "Not until he makes a move, anyway." Don's phone rang, and he grabbed it quickly. "Yeah? Eppes."

"_Hi, Don, it's me_," Charlie's voice came through the line. "_Um, I need your help. Actually, it's Ali, she needs your help._"

Don's hand dropped from his neck, and he caught Terry's eye. He motioned for her to pick up the other line, and she nodded, heading for her desk.

"What's wrong, Charlie? Is it Michael Seed?"

"_Uh, yeah. She talked to you about it?_" Don could hear the confusion and concern in his voice. No, not just concern, _fear_?

"Called me last night, said the guy had threatened to kill her, kidnap his son."

"_Wha... Wait, _kill her_? Um, where? When?_"

Don knew he shouldn't have told Charlie that, but it barely factored into his mind. Right now he was still tumbling over the fact that Alice was in trouble, and somehow Charlie knew about Michael Seed. The seasoned investigator in Don told him that they were connected.

"Yesterday, when she was at the kid's school, um, what's his name..." Don trailed off as he flipped through the pages in Seed's file, but Charlie supplied the name first.

"_Derick_."

"Yeah, she used to have a restraining order against him, but it lapsed a few years ago," Don said. "Charlie, what's going on?"

When Charlie spoke again, there was a pinch to his voice, as though he was trying to control himself. "_He's here Don. At Cal Sci. Alice went out to confront him. I didn't know everything. I didn't know he threatened to kill her!"_

Don glanced over at Terry, whose face was a mask, but there was a look in her eye. The look of a detached professional keenly aware that the situation was going to hell.

"Hold on, Michael Seed is there, _now_?"

"_Yeah, Alice brought Derick here today, and when she looked out the window, he was here."_

Don stood and grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair and began to slip it on. "Okay, I'm coming over there. Keep an eye on Derick. he's as much a target as Alice is. I'll be there soon."

As he dropped the phone into the receiver, Don heard Charlie reply, but it was gone before Don could put any thought to it. As he pulled the car keys from his desk drawer, Terry made a move to grab them from him.

"Terry," he warned as he slipped passed her to grab Michael Seed's photo from his file. He motioned for David, who was on the phone at his desk, to follow.

But Terry didn't give up, Don would have been surprised if she had.

"You're emotionally involved, Don. I'm driving."

They stepped into the elevator, holding it open as David caught up.

"With me or behind me, Lake, your call," he said, ending the discussion.

Don explained the situation as they rode down the elevator and into the garage below the FBI building. It wasn't a long discussion, he didn't know very much, but at the moment he was wishing he'd asked more questions, any one of the million that were popping into his head at this moment. As he drove, Don replayed his conversations with Alice and with Charlie over in his head, wondering if Alice hadn't told him everything. She'd withheld from Charlie, and they were closer than he and Alice were. But he could make a case for it to go either way.

His thoughts were broken when Don heard the police dispatcher on the scanner.

"_Rescue one-six, respond to one-nine-one-five West Glazure Road, reports of a stabbing._"

"Cal Sci," David said from the back seat.

Don felt Terry look at him, but he didn't turn towards her. Instead he eased onto the accelerator and felt the car's speed pick up, the traffic already splitting out of his way as the siren screamed.

When they pulled up to the university, it was a scene of chaos. Don was used to the disorder of crime scenes, but he hadn't been among the first responders in a very long time. By the time he got there local law enforcement usually had the scene secure, fire and rescue were already there, crime scene photographers out with their cameras and tape. This, this was different. There were students everywhere, apparently hearing of the attack, milling around. A steady stream of people turned a corner, going to and coming from. Off to the side, a student was throwing up at the base of a tree.

Don pulled into a parking space, and leapt out of the car, leaving it to idle. "David, go to Charlie's classroom, he's going to be with Derick Seed, the kid. Keep them there, and don't let _anyone_ get to them." Don and Terry started towards the corner, following the line of students until they found a crowd of people standing around.

"FBI, out the way!" Terry shouted, her badge out, parting the students as best she could. Don, for his part, didn't have his badge out, he just shouldered his way through the crowd.

"Terry!" Don heard Charlie call as he broke through the final students. "Is the ambulance here?

"Charlie!" Don said, stumbling the last few feet towards his brother. "Oh Jesus," he muttered when he saw the sight, his stomach knotting.

Alice was laying on the ground, unconscious and on her back, arms and legs sprawled out in the dead man's pose. Her lip was split open and bruises were already showing on her neck. Charlie's body hid Alice's torso from view, but Don could see the blood, all over Charlie's hands, as his little brother pressed his button-down shirt into Alice's side as a makeshift bandage to stop the blood flow.

"Don!" Charlie said, twisting around, trying to see Don, his voice pinched with fear. "Don!"

Don dropped to his knees, feeling for Alice's neck, for a pulse. When he found one he said a quick prayer while he checked her breathing, grateful for FBI first aid training taking over. "Just keep pressure on it, Charlie, an ambulance is on it's way. Where's Derick? Where's Seed?"

"Derick's with Larry, he took Derick back to his classroom," Charlie said, looking at Don. "I... I don't know what his father looks like."

Terry, who had been calling over the radio for a rush on the ambulance, heard this. She switch channels and called to David, telling him to get to the new classroom.

Don took off his jacket and put it over Alice's body; if he kept her warm, then it'd keep shock from setting in. He just needed to get her feet up. "Hey, you, kid," he said, pointing to one of the students in the group. "Give me your backpack."

"What?"

"_Now!_" That was all it took, and the bag was in Don's hands. He wedged it under Alice's feet, praying that it bought them enough time. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the photo of Michael Seed he'd grabbed from the man's file.

Charlie looked at it, but shook his head. "I... I never saw him."

"Rescue's here, get out of the way!" Terry said, as the crowd parted to let the paramedics through.

One of the paramedics dropped to Charlie's side, and tried to lift the wadded up shirt away, but Charlie kept pressure on it. Don put a hand on his brother's shoulder, gently pulling him away. "You gotta let them work, Charlie. You did good, but you gotta let them do their job."

As the paramedics were loading Alice onto the stretcher David's voice came through the radio.

"_Don, we have a problem._"

"Yeah, David? What's wrong?" Don asked, softly, glancing over at Charlie. He doubted his brother could take much more of a shock today.

"_I'm at Professor Fleinhardt's classroom. Derick's not here. The professor said his father came by and took the boy._"

"Does he know which way they went?"

There was a brief pause and then David's voice came back. "_No, but apparently the father said his car was nearby. He says that the boy was pretty withdrawn, acted like some kind of robot._"

"Okay, David, get LAPD out here and secure the scene. Put out an APB on Michael Seed, wanted for kidnapping. Get them to put up road blocks, paying special attention to men alone with a young boy _and_ men driving alone. He could have put Derick in the trunk. Terry?"

"Yeah?" Terry asked, glancing over her shoulder at Don.

"You ride with Alice, if she wakes up get what you can from her."

"I want to go with her, Don," Charlie said, breaking his gaze from Alice and the paramedics to look at his brother.

"I need Terry to go with her right now, but I'll get someone to drive you soon. Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up? Then I'll get someone to take you to the hospital."

This was the part of the job Don was familiar with. There were things to be done, evidence to be collected, a search to be mounted. He was in his element now, as at home here as Charlie was in a world of numbers and chalkboards. As the first LAPD officers pulled into the Cal Sci parking lot, Don fell into the task of coordinating the search efforts, one thought echoing through his mind.

_Michael Seed had made his move._


	10. Chapter VIII: The Family Eppes

A/N: Hey everyone. Again, thanks for the reviews and I'm sorry for the delay. Writer's block hit, plus plus three out-of-town trips in the last month, a funeral, and I'm graduating from high school in June, so needless to say it's been a bit chaotic. Hopefully this'll jump start my muse.

And you should all know that a hundred percent more likely to coax my muse into complacency if I have reviews. I just want two words from you all: "Still reading." That way I'll know you're still with me.

Chapter Eight: The Family Eppes

"Doctor Eppes?" the officer said, his voice breaking through Charlie's haze.

"What?" Charlie asked, blinking twice, his eyes stinging. He wondered, dazed, if he'd been crying, or had he just stared off into space, too shocky to blink? He didn't want to check, his hands were still sticky from Alice's blood, even after he'd washed them. The thought of having his hands near his face... No.

"We're here, Doctor Eppes."

It was then that he noticed that the officer was outside, holding the door open for him. A quick question managed to push it's way through his haze.

_Why?_

And the answer a moment later.

_There are no door handles. They transport suspects in the back seat. He came around because I couldn't open the door from the inside._

Charlie sighed, sagging his head for a moment, wishing that his brain would, for once in his life, shut up and let him be.

He pulled himself out of the back seat, and threw a half-hearted thank you to the impossibly young officer while he stumbled towards the front door of his house. Charlie wanted to go to the hospital, but he couldn't, not like he was now. He needed to shower, change his clothes... He needed to tell his dad.

Charlie paused when he got to the door, his hand hovering over the knob. Again, a wave of revulsion of his bloody hand, on the door handle, leaving Alice's blood... His stomach surged, and all of his horrors were overcome as he raced to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. When stomach settled down, Charlie leaned back, resting his back against the wall and cried.

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When Alan walked up the front path to the home he shared with his son, he wasn't entirely surprised to see the front door cracked open. When Charlie had been young, he'd get so wrapped up in his head he'd leave the door open all the time, but it'd been years since...

"Charlie?" Alan called, trying to quell the fear rising. There were a million reasons why the door could have been open, all of which were very rational and benign, and didn't foretell any great doom. But he was a parent whose child lived under the same roof, and a million irrational and horrific reasons involving his youngest son ran through his mind just as he thought this.

"I'm here, Dad." Charlie called, standing up, swiping away the tears on his cheeks. He walked out of the bathroom and caught his father's eye for just a moment before looking away.

Alan looked his son over and stopped in his tracks. Charlie was red-eyed and unshed tears were swimming along his lower eye lid, his hair tossled, and his clothes disordered. Alan's eye caught on the crimson stains on Charlie's shirt and pants. Was that...

"Is that blood? Charlie, are you hurt?" Alan said, crossing the space between them, looking closer for any sign of wound, his hands hovering, searching without touching.

"It's... It's not... not me, Dad," Charlie got out, gasping back tears.

"It's not..." Alan repeated, momentarily confused and relieved, but stopped suddenly, the thought hitting him with the force of brick. He struggled to keep his breathing calm. As terrified as he'd been for his youngest, a moment ago, was a mere shadow of a thought when compared to the ones centered now around his eldest. Alan steadied his voice as best he could, and asked, "Charlie, where's your brother?"

Charlie looked at his father, confused, and seeing the horror on Alan's face, wanted to slap his brain for disengaging momentarily. "It's not Don, Dad," he said. "Don's fine."

"He's fine? Don's okay? You're certain, I mean, if it's not your brother, and it's not you, what happened? Whose blood is that?"

"Alice," Charlie said, telling his father the events of the afternoon, in a voice too calm and too soft. A dim voice in the back of his head, told him that he was in shock, but he was too withdrawn, detached, to ponder seriously on it. And when Alan ordered Charlie to get a shower, and some new clothes, they'd go to the hospital together, Charlie was grateful for his father's strength to hold him up.

Alan, for his part, waited until he heard the shower running to pick up the phone. He was halfway through dialing Don's cell when he heard the front door open.

"Charlie?" Don called from the entranceway.

"He's getting cleaned up," Alan said, walking towards his son. "Charlie told me what happened, Donny. How could this happen?"

"I don't know, Dad," Don said, walking towards the kitchen. "You knew Alice was in town?"

"She called me a few days ago, she and Charlie have been gabbing on the phone like teenagers for days."

Don chuckled. Charlie had some of the worst phone manners that Don had ever seen, well, heard, actually. He was just ... awkward on the phone. He was far better with e-mails, where he had a chance to edit what he was saying. So the thought of his talking like a teenager...

Once inside the kitchen, Don pulled open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of beer, hoping that it would manage to calm his frayed nerves. The adrenaline rush had ended about twenty minutes ago, and now that he wasn't on Alice's case anymore, there was no where to channel what little energy he had. Now, the only things he could think of were Alice and Charlie.

"Are you sure you should be drinking that?" Alan asked, trying to keep his mind in some semblance of order. He'd thought of Alice as the daughter he'd never had, but between Don, Charlie, and Alice, she was the only one he hadn't envisioned ending up in on a hospital gurney. Not while Don worked for the FBI and Charlie was consulting. No, she seemed to have always been the one who would be safe.

"Look, Dad, I just watched a friend get peeled off the ground, so just back off, okay?" Don snapped, his tattered nerves finally giving way. But no more than the words were out of his mouth than he regretted them. "I'm sorry, Pop, you didn't deserve that."

"Forget it," Alan waved him off. "Are you going to be working on the case?"

"Nah," Don said, taking a drink from the bottle. "I'm too close to it. But Terry and David are working it. They said they'd keep me informed as much as they could, but they're more focused on getting Derick back right now."

"As they should be," Alan said. "As much as I want to see this guy, Michael Seed, strung from a tree, they need to worry about the boy."

"Yeah," Don said, he turned towards the windows, his jaw muscles working. If they'd give him five minutes alone with Seed...

"I'm gonna go see what's keeping Charlie," Alan said. "With the way he was acting earlier, he'd probably wash his skin raw."

Don nodded, remembering the painfully hot shower he'd just had, and suit that was waiting for him back at his apartment. He'd stopped there to change his clothes before coming over; he'd only been kneeling next to Alice a few minutes, but his clothes were ruined. He'd probably burn the damn things, as if that would unmake the last two hours.

If only it could unmake them.

Don wandered around the house for a few moments, while the cadence of his father's voice drifted down through the floor. His thoughts were, thankfully, interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

"Yeah? Eppes."

"_Hey, Don, it's Ryan, Ryan Walling. You left a message for me, you said something about Alice._"

Don took a deep breath and started to explain.


	11. Chapter IX: Terry

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews of last chapter, the muse is cooperating, but, unfortunately, real life isn't. So, this has taken a while to get up, and I apologize.

This was going to be a chapter about David and Terry collectively, but when I heard that Sabrina Lloyd was leaving Numb3rs, I rewrote it to honor this great character who really shouldn't be leaving the series.

Chapter Nine: Terry

"David!" Terry said, walking away from the patrol car that had brought her from the hospital back to the crime scene.

_Cal Sci_, she reminded herself. _Cal Sci. This isn't just a crime scene, Lake, this is Charlie's world._

David looked up at the sound of her voice, nodding at her once, to show his attention before turning back to the forensic tech he was speaking with for one final word. When he was done, he met Terry on her walk towards him. "Dr. Guinyard say anything?"

"Unconscious the whole way."

"How's she doing?"

Terry shook her head. "Not good. Knife nicked an artery, collapsed her lung. She may have had a fractured skull, too. She was being rushed to surgery when I left." If anything happened to Dr. Guinyard ... to Alice ... Don and Charlie would be devastated. "Where's Don?" she asked, scanning once over the assembled group of police and techs.

"Merrick didn't call you?" David asked, hesitantly.

Terry shook her head, just the mention of Don's boss made her nervous. If Merrick had gotten involved, things weren't going well. There was no love lost between Don and Merrick, just an overabundance of competing egos, though in the end Terry knew where her cards lay. Still, there was a sinking feeling she was not going to like where this conversation was going to end.

"While you were at the hospital, Merrick called Don. He said this was an LAPD matter and to get back to the office."

"And I take it Don wasn't happy with that," Terry prompted.

"Yeah," David chuffed, nodding his head. "But he held it together. Don did managed to convince Merrick to let us stay on this, coordinate things, seeing as how the Schulte case is winding down."

"But?"

"But Don had to get off the case. Merrick said that his emotional attachment would cloud his judgment and put Derick in danger."

Terry nodded, for once agreeing with Merrick's call. Don may have been a professional, but he was too close. There were reasons why the Bureau had policies on agent involvement in investigations centered around family and friends. And as much as she respected Don's judgment, Terry would rather him off the case, if only for his own good. If something went wrong, she doubted Don would ever forgive himself for it.

"So I take it I'm in charge?" Terry asked, cocking an eyebrow.

David gave a less-than-helpful shrug and nodded once. "Looks that way. I, uh, was interviewing the witnesses. most of their stories are the same. They heard a kid scream, that'd be Derick by Charlie's statement, and came back to where you and Don found Dr. Guinyard. Charlie was at her side, trying to stop the bleeding. Some remember Professor Fleinhardt taking Derick, others don't. A few remember a man matching Michael Seed's description being seen around campus, but none saw where he went or if he has Derick with him."

"Okay, has Dr. Guinyard's family been notified? Derick's?"

"Don left messages at Dr. Guinyard's husband's cell, home, and work numbers. I contacted Derick's mother, an Emily Seed-Koepnick. She went to the hospital with her husband, Derick's stepfather, one Walter Koepnick; and her older son, Christopher Seed."

"Do we have guards on Christopher? Seed might go after him."

David nodded. "But from what Mrs. Seed-Koepnic said, her ex-husband was only interested in Derick, he'd basically written Christopher off because he wasn't of Derick's caliber. It doesn't seem like he'd go after Christopher, but I've put two uniformed officers on him, and Dr. Guinyard, just in case."

"Has an Amber Alert been issued?"

"Hit the air waves about twenty minutes ago. We've been getting calls but nothing's hit so far."

"Okay, let's get over to the hospital and interview the family."

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Terry and David found the surgical waiting area, a place made to appear both comfortable and comforting, but only served to increase the anxiousness of the families there. The Seed-Koepnicks were easy to spot, the ragged emotion poured off them in waves; Emily's heartbroken pacing, Christopher's withdrawn shock, and Walt's tired apprehension stood out even amid the other families muddling through their own crises.

When Walt noticed Terry and Don walking towards them he stood. "Hey," he said, capturing the attention of his family. Together they scurried over to the agents.

"Are you the doctors?" Emily asked. "Did you treat Alice Guinyard? How is she doing?"

"No, ma'am, I'm Special Agent Terry Lake, with the FBI. This is my partner, Special Agent David Sinclair, I believe you spoke on the phone," Terry said, showing the family her badge.

"The FBI? Do you have Derick? Did you find him?" Christopher asked, the hope clear in his voice.

"No, not yet, unfortunately," Terry said. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few question."

"Of course," Walt said, placing a hand of the small of his wife's back, giving her what support her could. "What do you need to know?"

"Hey, Christopher, why don't you and I go get a soda?" David said to the boy. "That way we can let your parents and my partner talk?"

Christopher nodded. "Sure." And after a glance back at his nervous mother, let himself be led off.

Once they were out of earshot, Terry led the pair to a row of chairs and sat down. "Why we start with why Derick was at the Cal Sci campus this afternoon?"

It was a question Terry already knew the answer to, but it was a logical place to start and, in her experience, asking reasonable questions was usually the quickest way to gain a family's trust during the important first few hours. Let them ease into the relationship and then, later, if and when tougher questions had to be asked there would be some kind of camaraderie to fall back on.

"Uh, Dr. Guinyard, Derick's therapist, had taken him to meet Dr. Charles Eppes, he's a, uh, mathematician that my idolizes," Emily said, her voice hitching and cracking.

"Alice had known Dr. Eppes since they went to high school," Walt volunteered.

"We're aware of their history," Terry said. "Dr. Eppes's older brother is a fellow agent, and Dr. Eppes himself consults on cases from time to time."

"You know Alice?" Emily asked, her shock echoed in her husband's face.

"Not directly, but when Dr. Guinyard, Alice, went out to confront Mr. Seed, Dr. Eppes called his brother, Don, who took Agent Sinclair and I to the scene. When we arrived Derick and his father were already gone." Terry explained. "But the fact that we were involved so quickly bodes well, so I want you to remember that. We were able to get agents and LAPD involved early on. Okay?" Terry paused to let her statements sink in with the family, and then continued. "Do you have any idea where your ex-husband might go? Does he have a home in the area? Friends, family, coworkers?"

"Uh, no, no, I don't know," Emily said. "Michael didn't have family in California, that's why we were so eager to move out here. Put the whole goddamn country between us. Uh, I think the closest thing is an uncle's cabin in Arizona, outside of Phoenix, but Michael said he hadn't been there since he was a child."

"Alright, we'll have agents check it out, just in case that's where they're headed," Terry said, jotting down the facts. "Do you know the address?"

Emily shook her head, her face crumpling. "I didn't even know he was in California, until last night," Emily whimpered, turning to bury her face in Walt's shoulder, and started crying.

"What happened last night?" Terry asked Walt, softly.

"Yesterday Dr. Guinyard was confronted by Michael outside of Derick's school. He, uh, threatened Emily and Alice if they tried to keep him away from Derick."

Terry nodded again. "Well, let to my office with this location, and then we'll talk some more, okay?"

Terry stood and walked away, to give Emily a minute to compose herself. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed the FBI office.

"_Agent Pettiway_," the agent Terry called answered.

"Hey Bobby, it's Terry. I need some information, can you run something for me?"

"_Sure thing. This in connection with the missing kid?_"

"Yeah. His father, Michael Seed, used to go to a cabin in Arizona owned by his uncle. I need you to get the address."

"_That all?_"

"Yeah, let me know when you get it."

"_Sure thing. Listen, did Don really lose it at the scene?_"

Terry sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I don't know, I wasn't there."

"_Yeah, but, I mean, this is Don. Mr. Calm and Collected. He lost it?_"

"A woman Don knew since he was a kid was stabbed and lay bleeding to death. What'd you do? Just get back to me with the information." Terry said, hanging up, a headache threatening to grow. Was this how the agents back at the office were thinking? That Don had a meltdown? If they believed that, then how long would it take before someone made a move for Don's position? Interoffice politics had never been Don's forte, but now he would have a battle against him. There were enough people bucking for what few promotions came down, and Don had the best qualifications of anyone in the office.

Terry's momentary reverie was broken with the sound of Emily shouting.

"You bastard!"

Turning, Terry saw Emily running across the hallway towards Charlie, who was just exiting the elevator with Don and his father at his side. Walt was half a step behind his wife, and trying to placate the woman, but Emily wasn't listening. Her eyes were locked on Charlie, a face she recognized easily. Terry started moving towards the assembled group as Don caught the screaming woman as she tried to force her way past him to get to Charlie.

Charlie, who seemed to shrink back a little every time the woman spoke. Even from a distance Terry could see how small Charlie looked, lost and afraid, like a little boy trying desperately to be a grown up. She'd only seen him like this once before, after the bank robbery, when they'd pleaded for his help and Charlie had just walked away.

"You son of a bitch! He was supposed to be safe! You were supposed to watch him!" Emily's voice broke and she pulled back from Don, her eyes never leaving Charlie, but carrying none of the anger in them now. "Alice said it'd be okay. She said he'd be fine," she cried, sinking to the floor., Walt dropping down next to her.

"Don," Terry said softly, just loud enough to get her partner's attention. She nodded off to the side. Don nodded and said something softly to his father, who looked over to Terry, having haven't seen her. Charlie, for his part, never looked past the fallen woman, just letting his father lead him away.

"Hey Terry," Alan said. "Have you heard anything?"

"Just what I learned in the ambulance."

"How bad?" Charlie asked, his voice small and hollow.

"Not good," Terry said, simply. Seeing the look on Alan and Don's faces, she explained. "Uh, the paramedics said the knife hit an artery in her lung, and collapsed it. They also found that she might have a cracked skull."

"Oh God," Alan said, turning away, his head rubbing his forehead.

"He threw her against the wall, Don," Charlie said, breaking his gaze on Emily to look at his brother. "He threw her against the wall," a hitch in his voice as he clamped his eyes down tightly.

"It's okay, Charlie," he said, closing what little distance there was between them, and hugging him. "She'll be okay."

Terry recognized that voice, it was the one she'd heard Don use when his mother's battle with cancer was coming to an end. Before he'd admitted that his mother was dying, this was how his voice sounded, a mix of hope and awareness that no, she was not going to get better. And every part of Terry wanted to tell him that Alice would be fine, she'd get through this, help confirm what he was telling his brother, but she couldn't. Quite simply Terry didn't _know_.

"Uh, what about Derick?" Alan asked. "What do you know about him?"

This broke Charlie and Don apart, each looking to her with the same question in their eyes.

"Well, we know that Michael Seed's uncle has a cabin in Arizona which we're having checked out, but beyond that not much." Terry was interrupted by her phone ringing. "Excuse me," she said, walking just out of earshot. "Lake."

"_Hey, Terry, it's Bobby, I got the address you wanted. 314 Pine Crest Lane, Templeton, Arizona. I've got local PD on their way there._"

"Great, Bobby, thanks."

"_And one more thing. Dispatch got a call about ten minutes ago from a kid on route 66 east claiming to be Derick. Gave the description of the car, his clothes, said his mother's maiden name was Emily Jean Irvine and she was born in Atlanta, Georgia. It all checks out._"

"Derick made the call."

"_Yeah, and according to the maps, that's the quickest route up to Templeton_."

"Great work, Bobby. David and I are heading up there now." She said, hanging up. She placed a quick call to David's cell, and he and Christopher were on their way up from the cafeteria.

Walking back over to the trio of Eppes men, she simply said "You guys will want to hear this," and then led them over to where Emily and Walt were sitting.

"Mrs. Seed-Koepnick?" Terry asked, getting the woman's attention and trying not to flinch when the broken and red-eyed woman looked at her. "Is your maiden name Emily Jean Irvine?"

"Yes, why?"

"And you grew up in Atlanta, Georgia?"

"Yes."

Terry smiled and continued. "About ten minutes ago a call came into a 911 operator from a little boy claiming to be Derick. He also gave your maiden name and your hometown."

"Derick made the call?" Don asked, the shock in his voice real.

"He found us," she said, nodded.


End file.
